Requiem of the Golden Wheat
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: After disaster strikes at home Mana runs away with his servant, a boy destined to become the Order's General Cross. Now Mana must face the brother he left behind as the looming war threatens to tear their world apart.
1. Chapter 1: Fruehling

**Okay I needed to blow off some steam and I couldn't focus on any of my other writing projects, so I thought I might try my hands at something serious instead of posting my ten other D. Gray-man theories for trolls. Don't worry though. I'll get back to those… eventually… Anyhow, this story idea has been bothering me for about half a week now, so I'm going to let this little plot bunny hop onto the page.**

**The Invisible Sock**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man or any of the characters mentioned in this story… except Rhian… and a couple names I came up with here and there…I don't know if that counts. All property of D. Gray-man belongs to Hoshino Katsura. The chapter title belongs to the music of Richard Strauss and the quote (although translated here) to Hermann Hesse  
**

**Requiem of the Golden Wheat**

**Part One: Frühling**

"In shadowy crypts I dreamt long of your trees and blue skies, of your fragrances and birdsong."

Hermann Hesse

They were the days that he liked to believe that he had forgotten. The days in the countryside surrounded by trees and watched over by the ever-present blue sky. They were days lost in the golden fields of dried out wheat waving in the wind. He couldn't even figure out why the wheat was even golden. Surely dried out wheat was dead wheat, and anyone could tell him that dead plants were brown. Every day, however, the dead golden wheat would taunt him like the two pairs of golden eyes belonging to his charges.

He hated his charges.

He _really_ hated those two brats.

The neighbors thought that Mana and Neah Walker were two adorable little angelic boys who deserved to be born to a family with such high social standing. They were ever so polite when adults came to call on their mother, Lady Adrienne Walker. Mana, the older brat, would hold the door open for the ladies and bow gracefully. He'd rarely speak, though. Instead he chose to be the sullen, stoic elder brother. Speaking was Neah's forte. Neah certainly did have a way with words, but he was even better with music. When the lords and ladies came they'd all sit and listen to Neah play the piano in the elegant sitting room. The ladies would constantly hold their handkerchiefs and dab their wet eyes. At the end of the performance the lords would clap and the ladies would cry and praise this 'charming young gift from God.'

That damn piano would almost make him forget what a brat Neah was, but only for a little. As soon as their mother or any other adult was out of earshot the two boys turned into fanged beasts of terror. It was not something easy to describe. The first time that he told one of the tenants that those brats were evil, the man had laughed at him and said that all little boys were that way.

The tenants could not possibly understand it. Their children did, though. There was a reason the children did not play with Mana and Neah Walker.

Besides brats, evil, snobs, spoiled, and damn little bastards, the best word to describe the two was odd. Everything they said to him with that snide look in their golden eyes was odd. Earlier today, for example, they had told him how much better the world would be when all the humans were dead.

"The poor little humans won't have to be sad then," stated Neah in oratory style as they walked to the top of the hill behind Walker Manor. "And that's when we'll rule the world in peace."

He set the picnic blanket that the old maid Rhian had given him and then dropped the basket with a thud on top of that. "But there won't be any people in it," he replied. "You can't exactly rule a world with no one in it."

"We'll be in it, you idiot. Were you not paying attention?" scoffed Mana. "Of course, you can't tell anyone about this. I don't even know why Neah bothered to tell you."

"Yeah, I can't figure out why anyone would want to tell me about my imminent doom," he grumbled in response. He pushed his messy red hair out of his face. It did not help much, for the wind blew it right back as soon as he let go. Great. Now that old bat Rhian would want to shave his head. That or she would tie it in a girly ribbon on top of his head.

"Well, Git will be with us for a while," said Neah defensively. "Uncle Adam said he wouldn't be going anywhere, so he was bound to find out sooner or later."

"My name is Gitano," he huffed through clenched teeth.

"No, mother called you Gitano because you looked like a wandering gypsy," replied Mana. "You didn't have a name."

He couldn't argue with that. Gitano, as he was now called, had never had a home until two years ago. No one was quite sure where he came from. He had lived with gypsies for the first few years of his life, but then he had been sold off so they could buy passage on a ship from an old man. He worked for the old man, a fisherman, for a few years cleaning fish and scrubbing the deck, but then the man decided he was too small to be of any real use in the future. Gitano then found himself on the streets of the crazy, smelly, dirty city of London. He was sold off once again to a chimney sweep and escaped that job after two weeks. After that he had wandered all over England until he had been caught by one of the Walker boys' uncles while asleep out in the damn dead golden wheat. The sky had been a bright blue that day. That added to the birds singing in the trees had lulled him into such a peaceful repose. Now the birds and bright blue sky mocked him, he who must always remain in the confines of the golden dead wheat and the forest.

He'd gladly spend the rest of his life on the streets if he could get away from Walker Manor and forget all about strange little brats and the even stranger stories they told.

"NEAH!" called an overly sweet high-pitched voice. Mana rolled his eyes, but Neah's eyes opened in fear.

"You never told me they were invited," Neah whispered in his most deadly tone, which wasn't very deadly considering he was only 7 years old.

"Why else would Rhian make five sandwiches?" he asked innocently. He'd known the whole time that _they_ were invited.

"I thought maybe Rory and mother were joining us for once," said Neah.

"Rory is sickly. I'd be surprised if your mother ever let him look outside a window," he said.

The first of the _they_ tackled Neah in a hug. Mana snickered as he watched his little brother struggle to loosen himself from the death-like grip of Road Camelot. Road had been promised to marry one of the Walker brothers. The idea had been for her to marry Mana, but the girl had taken a preference for Neah. In the end Neah had found himself tied to this little girl who gave him and his brother a run for their money in the oddness factor.

"Road! Let go of me!" he gasped as he flailed in her arms.

"It's been so long since I last saw you! How is my dear one?" she inquired while betting her eyelids. That girl wore way too much mascara for a child, at least in Gitano's opinion.

"We just had dinner at your house yesterday!" hollered Neah. "Mana, get her off of me!"

"I wouldn't want to interfere with true love," laughed Mana maniacally.

"You self-absorbed jerk!"

"Who are you calling self-absorbed, Mr. I-Play-the-Piano-to-Hear-the-Guests-Clap?"

Gitano watched the brothers exchange insults as Road clung to Neah. The second _they_ sat down next to him. "How long are you going to let them bicker like that?" she asked.

"There's no one around for miles, Sophia. I'm sure it's perfectly healthy," he said. Sophia was quite possibly the only person who understood how evil the Walker brothers were. She worked for the Camelots as a kind of personal servant and playmate for their daughter Road. The tiny, raven-haired girl had been chosen from an orphanage to work for the Camelots for precisely one reason: she could be easily intimidated. The Camelots lived closer to the city, so there were more chances for Sophia to escape than Gitano had here in the countryside. They didn't want anyone to go spreading rumors about just how strange the Camelots and their cousins the Walkers were to all of society. Sophia was much too scared of Lord Camelot to even think of running off.

"We'll get in trouble if they start fighting," retorted Sophia. "Last time Mana accidentally hit her, and I was flogged for the next week!"

"Don't worry," he stated. His eyes turned down as he remembered the sight of purple and blue bruises all over her arms and face. He really should have stopped them that time. "I'll stop them if things start to turn violent."

Road had had enough sense this time to let go of Neah, and now his elder brother had him in a head lock. "Come on!" Gitano called. "Knock it off and eat your sandwiches already." Mana let go of his brother, and Neah tried to flatten his hair down in vain. Road sat down on the blanket and smoothed her purple velvet skirt down. "Now say blessing."

"You know we don't say blessing," snapped Mana.

"What do you think Uncle Adam would say if he heard that you even said the word blessing?" asked Road, her golden eyes taking on the quality of molten gold.

"What do you think the rest of society would say if they heard you say that, Lady Camelot?" he hissed in reply.

Road stuck her tongue out at him, and he returned the gesture. Sophia pulled him away from the picnic.

"You're really asking for trouble," she huffed.

"What? They're so infuriating!" he snarled. A hurt look came across Sophia's face. "Look I'm sorry. I'm just so sick of working for them knowing that they intend to keep me here forever."

"It can't be helped," sighed Sophia. "You know what they can do. One wrong move and you could end up in Road's room for target practice."

"I'd run away before that," he said defiantly.

"Where to Gitano?" she asked.

"The circus is always looking for people," he said.

"The circus? That's a place for freaks and wild animals," responded Sophia.

"Honestly, no one can be freakier than those three," he replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the picnicking children. "Plus, I've been honing my skills."

"At what?" questioned Sophia.

"Rhian taught me how to read," he said quietly. Gitano looked to make sure the picnickers were not listening in on their conversation. "The thing is, the only books Rhian has are magic books."

"Rhian is a witch!" exclaimed Sophia, gray eyes widening. He clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Just because she can do magic doesn't mean you have to call her a witch. I'd say she's more of a magician. She doesn't ride a broom or anything like that. She has to use magic circles to cast enchantments, which she doesn't do too often. Rhian is more of the potion brewing type. She had me read her potion books out loud to her for practice," he stated. "I know most of the basic ones by heart now, plus I took some of her books of enchantment. Those are much more interesting. I've been practicing those outside whenever the brats are out. I'll show you some time."

"I'm sure you're a great magician, but even if you did get away what would you do when _he_ finds you," Sophia asked. He could see the fear and concern etched into her face. It looked very out of place on an eight year old's face, but he knew she was right. No matter what he did _he_, Uncle Adam, would find him. He'd probably be dead within twenty-four hours of leaving, for no one left the service of the Walker or Camelot families alive. "I don't want to lose my only friend."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I won't go. I'm not stupid enough to try, but I'm foolish enough to dream," Gitano said. "I guess the magic is just part of that dream."

"Do you guys want your sandwiches or not?" shouted Mana. He held up the two remaining sandwiches. Neah and Road grabbed them from him and devoured every last crumb. Gitano felt his stomach grumble. Neah was going to pay for this one.

"What this," he muttered to Sophia. He muttered a few choice words under his breath. Several grains of wheat began accosting the younger Walker boy. Neah yelped and jumped behind Road, eyeing the wheat fearfully.

"Who the hell did that?" he inquired.

"Watch your mouth," said Gitano. He picked up the basket, and Sophia picked up the dirty dishes and stuck them inside. "Now let's go say hello to Rory." The three golden-eyed children ran ahead in a kind of foot race. He watched their game from the top of the hill, noting how little progress they appeared to make over the vast fields of wheat. He picked up the blanket and walked back to the manor with Sophia.

oOo

Hardly anyone ever talked about the youngest Walker boy. Many people did not know he existed. Even fewer knew that he and Neah were twins. Whereas Neah was a bold, loud, rude little gentleman Rory was timid, quiet, and painfully awkward. Rory would cling to his mother's skirts when visitors came to call. Mana could be quiet around the guests, but Rory was deadly silent. Some might have even said that the small silver-eyed boy was a doll.

Gitano really wished that Rory was in his charge. Rory would be easy to watch, would not start throwing things at him when he didn't get his way, nor would he constantly remind him of his impending doom. However, if Rory was clingy then the only word to describe Lady Arienne was possessive.

Lady Arienne was sitting with Rory at the piano in the sitting room trying to teach the boy how to play like his twin brother did. It did not seem like she was having any luck in this endeavor. "Try to stop your fingers from trembling so, Rory dear," said the woman soothingly, pushing the little boy's dark hair out of his face.

"Good afternoon, Auntie Arienne," stated Road while giving a little curtsey. "Good afternoon, Rory."

Rory lifted his hands from the keys and ducked his head behind his mother. "H-hello cousin," stammered Rory.

"Don't be shy, Rory," said Lady Arienne. "We'll pick up with your piano lesson tomorrow. How about you play with your brothers and Road for a little while?"

Rory slid cautiously off the piano bench and followed Road as she dragged Neah off to the nursery. Mana rolled his eyes once again but followed the three younger children anyhow.

Lady Arienne stood and walked over to one of the tall arching windows. It would be a lie to say that she was not beautiful. He had heard many men say so, but he had also heard many men say that they had never seen her husband. Gitano had always assumed that the man must have died (he would not be surprised if Mana and Neah were behind it), however, when he really thought about it, the whole family situation was weird. Lady Arienne had never even mentioned a Lord Walker. She was intimidating enough for both a lord and a lady, though, so he doubted she needed a Lord Walker.

She turned to face him and Sophia, long brownish-red hair cascading over one shoulder. "Lord Camelot said they were coming for dinner tonight. I suppose Rhian can expect your help in the kitchen, Sophia Maria?"

He saw Sophia tense up out of the corner of his eye. Sophia always did that when Lady Arienne, or any other adult for that matter, used her full name. "Yes, ma'm," replied Sophia with a quick curtsey. She ran out of the room, and he soon heard to kitchen door open and close.

"Adam is coming as well," she said. Lady Arienne walked over to him and lifted his face in her heavily adorned right hand. "I want the boys to be dressed in their best suits. Do I make myself clear, Gitano?"

"Yes ma'm," he mumbled in response.

It apparently was not good enough for she raised her left hand and smacked him across the face. "I've told you not to mumble, Gitano," she stated in a dangerously low voice. "They are to be ready at 1900 hours. Mana should tie his hair back, and Neah needs to wash his face. I do not want them looking unkempt like the last time. We are not to disappoint Lord Adam, is that understood?"

"Yes madam," he said louder this time. He stared into her burning gray eyes. Even though she had been nice enough to not kill him as Lord Camelot had suggested, he still thought she was more of a witch than Rhian would ever be.

There was a knock at the door. Lady Arienne dropped his face as Rhian stuck her head inside. "I've started preparing dinner, madam. I was coming to say that Rory will need a bath before Lord Adam and the others arrive," said the wizened old woman. Rhian was the kind of old woman you expected to see outside a little hut somewhere in a little country village warning adults of demons and telling ghost stories to little children. Gitano had always thought she looked perfectly ridiculous in a black servant's dress with a white apron. Her curly hair stuck out at all angles from the hap hazardous bun on top of her head.

"Yes, of course," replied Lady Arienne. "I shall call for him momentarily. She turned back to him. "Go help Sophia Maria in the kitchen until Rhian is finished washing Rory."

"Yes, ma'm," he responded, all too glad to get away from her and her flaring temper. She was always in a temper when Lord Adam came around. He just hoped that the Camelots were bringing their butler to serve.

oOo

They hadn't brought the butler. Now Gitano had to wear a stupid red bow-tie and gloves (heaven forbid if someone _normal_ touched Lord Skin's food) to go along with the very stiff formal attire he had to wear for these occasions. He was not happy.

He tried his best to keep his stomach from growling (he still hadn't had lunch- all the brats' fault) as he carried dishes to and from the dining room. It appeared that the whole family had decided to show up. Rhian must have excellent intuition, he thought, otherwise she would never have had all this food prepared. Lord Adam, or Uncle Adam to everyone at the table, sat at one end and Lady Arienne at the other. Neah and Road had situated themselves as close as possible to Lord Adam. Mana sat in the middle of the table conversing sparingly with Lord Tykki. Rory, of course, sat by his mother's right hand.

"His coloring has improved from last that I saw him, Arienne," said Lady Lulubell while sipping tea. "I was afraid I wouldn't see him the next time I called."

"I believe it must have been overexposure to the sun," replied Lady Arienne. "Rory is such a sensitive child."

"Well, I do hope he will be as dutiful to the cause as you are, my dear Arienne," stated Lord Adam from the head of the table. "As soon as he is strong enough to travel you should bring your boys to my place."

"Oh, can we mother?" asked Neah enthusiastically. The adults chuckled at this display, causing the boy to turn a bright red and sit lower in his seat.

"We'll see," she responded.

"I want to come and visit!" exclaimed Road. She was now standing on her chair. Gitano inwardly groaned, for he could just imagine the fit Lady Arienne would have once everyone left. No one was allowed to stand on her furniture and get away with it. "It's been so long since I last was there."

"But you visit me all the time, Road," laughed Lord Adam. Gitano went into the kitchen to fetch dessert for the entire table. He was careful to balance the tray before Sophia and Rhian sent him back on his way to the dining room.

"I want to see what you are working on! You haven't told me a thing about your newest invention," pouted Road.

"I could tell you a bit, if you'd like," said Lord Adam while dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

Everyone in the dining room fell silent and looked at Lord Adam. This must have been the reason for this gathering. Odd people like the Walker family never just had dinner parties. "Do enlighten us, Uncle Adam," replied Lord Tykki, intertwining his fingers and placing his hands on his knees.

"Very well," began Lord Adam. He placed his napkin back on the table. "As I told you all last time I've been working on improving the abilities of all levels of akuma. Just last year I was able to level two akuma to change into a more human like form. Unless they are enraged then you can't even see the pentacle mark anymore."

"Go on," encourage Lord Camelot.

"Anyhow the only remaining problem was that the akuma could not sense those damn exorcists and their Innocence," said Lord Adam.

"What's Innocence, Mama?" asked Rory quietly.

"It's nothing you need to worry about, Rory dear," whispered Lady Arienne. "As long as I'm here I won't let it touch you."

"The newest herd of akuma was just ambushed the other day. Fortunately the upper levels got away and even killed two exorcists, but all of the level one akuma were lost," continued Lord Adam. His eyes narrowed at the last part. Gitano, not wanting to attract too much of Lord Adam's attention, sunk into the shadows as much as he could. They didn't worry about him telling anyone, since he couldn't leave, but Lord Adam still never liked it when he was in the room. "However, that issue is no longer of any concern. The newest generation of akuma is all equipped with sensors that can track Innocence."

Everyone at the table broke out in applause, Road being the most fervent in this action. "That's wonderful Uncle Adam!" cried out the girl.

"How do you know it works, though?" inquired Lord Tykki.

"You've always been a doubter, Tykki," chuckled Lord Adam. "We managed to capture a couple pieces of Innocence. Instead of destroying them outright like I usually do, I decided to use them for this experiment. I'd like to use the pieces again, however, so I called everyone together tonight to ask if anyone is willing to keep the Innocence in their house as I continue my work. It gives me such a headache and is such a temptation for my more destructive habits. My future work involves making akuma capable of destroying Innocence, but I can't test it if I destroy it first."

Everyone at the table exchanged glances. Gitano knew that they all hated this "Innocence"- whatever it was- so it was unlikely anyone would willingly volunteer-

"I'll do it, Lord Adam," declared Lady Arienne. Everyone seemed to be shocked. "I'm to only one here who is unaffected by the Innocence. It is the least I can do."

Lord Adam flashed his large cat-like grin. "Very well, Arienne," he said. "Make sure to keep the boys away from it. They might get… hurt. I'll bring it by in the next couple of days."

Gitano was very curious. He'd have to tell Sophia and Rhian about this later. There was a chance that he might finally discover what this "Innocence" was and why everyone seemed so frightened of it. Lady Arienne flashed him a look, and Gitano snapped out of his thoughts to begin clearing the table.

**Okay, so this is turning out longer than I've expected, so I'm going to split it into three parts, but I'm willing to continue beyond part three if anyone has any interest in this. Anyhow, I'd like to talk about some of the character choices I made in this piece. After reading the latest chapter and looking at the way the other Noahs live in society I decided to make Mana and Neah nobility. I also decided that the twins on the second to last page are not Mana and Neah since it was stated in one of the earlier chapters that Mana was Neah's older brother. I know some people will say "he's the older twin" but I have my reasons for actually making Mana older. ;) I also thought it would be an interesting twist to make them a bit more of the bickering type. Almost all the stories I've read about them so far makes them so... nice. I mean, Neah is the Noah of destruction. Surely he has got to have a bit of a temper. Also I used the current names for the Noah family for simplicity's sake. Anyhow, I hoped you guys enjoyed this. **

**Also on the title and chapter titles: I was listening to Strauss' Four Last Songs while typing this, so I decided to use a quote from it for this chapter, with the chapter title being the song it came from. All chapter titles will be song titles, seeing as Neah was musically gifted. The story title just reflects the music theme. Reviews are highly encouraged! :D**


	2. Chapter 2: September

**Alright, I wanted to get at least part two out before finals start. Thanks for the favorites from Alice Nyte and TheParadoxicalOtaku!**

**Disclaimer: As stated before, I do not own D. Gray-man, the song/poem September, or any of the song lyrics used in this chapter. The first song is Beau Soir by Debussy and the second one is Se Florindo è fedele by Scarlatti. I wrote the chant, though. :)**

**Part Two: September**

"_Summer smiles, astonished and feeble, at his dying dream of a garden_."

Hermann Hesse

Good God, he had to remember not to come to the Camelot's manor on Thursdays. Road had her music lessons every Thursday and there was only one way to describe her singing: awful.

"_Lorsque au soleil couchant les rivières sont roses_," she sang in a very breathy tone. Gitano continued to pluck out the tune for her on the piano. Neah was in another room on the other end of the hall practicing whatever piece he was playing at the moment (Gitano was pretty sure it was something by one of those famous 'B' guys- Beethoven, Bach, Brahms-), which left him to help Road with her practicing. Mana sat on a sofa beyond the piano reading a book. He had neither musical prowess nor any desire to study the subject, preferring to read whatever London society had dubbed the latest great novel. Gitano could see the annoyance in the boy's face as Road continued in a louder, shriller phrase. "_Et qu'un tiède frisson court __**sur**__ les champs de __**blé**_."

He stopped playing the piano as the last part was practically screamed into his ear. "Have you tried playing the piano before?" he asked as nicely as possible. He could still feel a vein in one of his temples throbbing.

"No I haven't. Keep playing, Git!" she demanded.

"How about the violin?"

"That's much too difficult. Besides, any young lady could tell you that you must learn to sing in order to entertain your guests," she replied.

"You know, I think you might be best suited for the flute, Lady Road," he stated. He was practically clenching his teeth at this point. He really just wanted her to stop singing forever.

"Why is that?" she inquired.

"Well… it's shiny and you like shiny things," he responded.

"That's true," she said, "but they're so shrill and annoying…"

Her eyes narrowed at him. Oh dear, Gitano thought, she has figured me out. He could see Mana smirking behind the cover of his book and rocking back and forth with silent laughter.

"ARE YOU SAYING THAT MY VOICE IS SHRILL AND ANNOYING?" she screamed at him.

He knew denying it would not change anything. He was going to have to stick to his guns. "I'm just saying that singing may not be your forte," he said. "Not everyone can sing."

"I CAN SING! I CAN BREATH AND MAKE SOUND COME OUT OF MY VOICE BOX!" Road bellowed. The room was beginning to warp. He had almost forgotten that Road had 'awakened' in the last year, whatever that meant.

"Road, knock it off," stated Mana. The boy had shut his book and pushed the loose strands of his long black hair out of his face. "The Git is right for once. Your singing is terrible."

"NO IT'S NOT!" she cried. Water was spilling from her eyes and turning into little acid droplets that were burning the twisting floor of the room. "YOU'RE THE ABSOLUTE WORST, MANA WALKER!"

"Maybe I wasn't clear," he said. He stood up from the sofa and walked over to Road until he was staring down into the little girl's eyes. "_No one_ likes your singing, and I mean no one."

"My dad likes my singing," she retorted.

"Of course he does," replied Mana. "He has to because he's your dad."

"Neah likes my singing," she sniffed.

"Why do you think he's not in the room?" inquired Mana. Road stopped crying. "He'd be playing the piano if he liked your singing. Haven't you noticed already that he doesn't let you sing when he's playing?"

Road stood there perfectly silent in the center of the room. The floor had stopped twisting although the burn marks remained.

Gitano heard Neah stop playing in the other room. After a couple seconds of silence he started a different piece. A few seconds after the song began, he heard someone begin to sing. "_Se Florindo è fedele io m'innamorerò_."

This was possibly the worst moment he could have asked her to sing. It only made everything plainly obvious: Neah only let Sophia sing when he played the piano.

"See," said Mana with a wicked grin, "anyone could tell you that Sophia is the only one he'll accompany."

Road ran out of the room, and Gitano bolted after her. He was hoping that between him and Road there was enough noise to tell Neah to stop. Unfortunately she reached the room just before he did. He saw her fling Sophia as hard as she could towards the opposite wall and stand where she had been next to the piano. He ducked into the room and went to check on his friend. Sophia stared at Road with wide fearful eyes. Gitano checked the top of her head and saw that she hadn't hit it off of the floor when she fell. As soon as he let go of her head Sophia hid behind him, much like how Rory hid behind Lady Arienne.

"Neah, why don't you ever play for me," she asked, giving Sophia a scorching glare.

The boy looked stunned and Gitano could see him visibly searching for words. "Well… I wanted to practice that piece and you don't know it," he stated. "Sophia went to that Latin speaking orphanage, so I thought she might be able too…"

"I AM BETTER THAN SHE IS!" Road snapped. She balled her hands into fists and stamped her feet. Luckily the room was not changing shape this time. "IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW GOOD SHE IS NOW BECAUSE I'LL ALWAYS BE BETTER AND PRETTY SOON UNCLE ADAM WILL BE FINISHED WITH HIS PLAN SO THEY'LL ALL BE DEAD!"

"Calm down, Road!" exclaimed Neah. "I never claimed that anyone was better than anyone else."

"BUT YOU ONLY PLAY FOR HER!" she screamed. "I AM THE ONE WHO LOVES YOU! YOU SHOULD ONLY PLAY FOR ME!"

"Look, if it will make you feel better then how about I teach you how to play the piano-"

"Now you're being just as mean as the stupid Git!" she cried.

"I'm right here you know," he said, but Road ignored his comment.

"I c-can s-s-s-sing," she bawled. Neah patted her on the shoulder cautiously.

"I'm sure you'll get better with practice," he stated with his most charming smile. "You're right, though. As soon as the humans are dead you'll be the best singer in the world."

She smiled and gave him a hug. Gitano might have thought it was cute if they hadn't been talking about his impending doom once again. "I wish Rory would just start showing signs of awakening already. Then we could move on towards our world of peace," Road sighed.

"Is that all Uncle Adam is waiting for?" inquired Neah.

"It's the main thing," she said. "Tell your twin to stop being so _slow_."

Gitano heard someone give a "che" from the doorway. He turned to see Mana rolling his eyes at his younger brother and cousin. Mana turned and walked back down the hall, his hair whipping over his shoulder.

oOo

"Hey, old bat," he asked later that night. He was back in Walker Manor scrubbing laundry with Rhian.

She glowered at him, but still he saw her eyebrow arch with interest. "What is it?" she questioned.

"I was wondering…" he began, but she cut him off.

"No, I'm not teaching your any more magic. You know enough already for a servant boy," she replied while squeezing water out of one of Rory's shirts.

"I wasn't going to ask that!" he exclaimed in exasperation. She always thought he was trying to con her out of something. Rhian could act so sweet in front of Lady Arienne, but behind the kitchen doors she might as well have been another of the demons of Walker Manor. Gitano was really beginning to hate adults in general. It was a shame he had to grow up and become one. "I was wondering when you thought Rory would 'awaken.'"

Rhian stopped ringing out the shirt and place it on the nearest table top. "Whatever made you ask that?" she inquired.

"Well, Road was talking about how Lord Adam is just waiting for Rory to 'awaken' earlier today. She was having another one of her temper tantrums and-"

"You shouldn't talk about these kinds of things, Gitano," responded the old woman. She had him fixed in a very serious stare. "It really isn't any of your business."

"Of course it is!" he shouted at her. "As soon as he turns I'll either be stuck watching him along with Mana and Neah or they'll finally kill me! I think this is entirely my business!"

He was surprised when Rhian only sighed in response. "I suppose you're right about that," she said. "I wouldn't worry if I were you though. Rory isn't like the others."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"You really are an idiot," she grumbled. She picked up a couple clothes pins and stuck one in her mouth while using the other to hang Rory's shirt. "What I'm saying is that he won't turn. Neah was born with those eyes and Mana has had 'em since he was three."

"He's not going to 'awaken?'" Gitano asked in almost total disbelief. So there really was goodness in the Walker family.

"Yes," replied Rhian. "Rory will never awaken."

They didn't see the golden eye watching them through the crack disappear into the darkness.

oOo

For once it was raining. It had been so long since it had last rained that Gitano wanted to stand outside and let it beat down on his thin body, but he was stuck inside watching the brats. Today was an unusual day. It wasn't that Road and Sophia had come earlier in the Camelot's carriage, but that Lady Arienne had left Rory in his charge today as well.

The little boy looked lost without his mother. His pale, tiny hands that normally hung onto Lady Arienne's skirts hung uselessly by his sides as he watched his older brothers playing with Road. Gitano thought about giving him a prod to make sure he was still alive. If Rory died when he was in his charge, then Gitano would not be surprised when he became the main course for tonight's supper.

Neah had grown bored of having Road cling to him, so he'd bothered Mana until the elder boy got his toy train set out. Now the three children were placing the tracks together. Neah laid the last piece down nearby where Rory sat.

"Alright, we've finished," said Neah, surveying his work. Road clapped her hands together.

"Here, Road," stated Mana. He handed her the engine. "You're the guest, so you can be the conductor first."

The girl gleefully took the engine, but then looked over at Neah. "Neah can go first," she replied. She handed him the engine. "It was your idea to play runaway train."

Neah sat down and place the train on the tracks. Road began to make noises as Mana flipped the signs and moved little metal pieces of livestock into the train's path.

Suddenly, Rory stood up and walked slowly over to his twin. "C-can I take a t-t-turn soon?" asked Rory.

Neah glared at his twin brother. "It's my turn right now. Why don't you go read a book or talk to mother?" replied the boy coldly.

Tears formed in Rory's eyes and he walked out of the room. Mana stopped moving the pieces and went out into the hall as well.

"That was kind of mean," said Road, looking out after Rory and Mana.

"You don't understand," stated Neah. He continued moving the train and pretty soon Road was back to making the noises for dying livestock and passengers.

Gitano looked towards Sophia who was sitting a few feet away from him. "I'm going to check on Mana and Rory," he mouthed.

"Okay," she mouthed back.

He didn't have to look far, for Rory had hidden himself under the stairway in the foyer. Mana was crouched in front of him.

"He's so mean," cried Rory. His muffled sobs echoed off the imposing white walls of the foyer. He was curled in a little ball with his face towards Mana.

"I'm sure he'll get over it," said Mana. "He's probably just showing off for Road. He's doing a really bad job of it, though. Then again, Road likes pretty much anything Neah does."

Gitano stood hidden in the shadows. He was stunned to say the least. He had rarely seen Mana be genuinely nice to anyone except his mother. He supposed the boy must really care for his little brother.

"I'm never gonna show off to anyone," sniffled Rory, wiping his eyes. "If someone wants to play with me then I'd let them."

"I'm sure you would," stated Mana, actually cracking a smile. Gitano was starting to think that he must have exchanged Mana for some other child at the Camelot's house the other day. Mana absolutely _never_ smiled. "Neah plays pretty rough, though. He's probably afraid he'll hurt you."

"I'm tough!" exclaimed Rory.

"Of course you are. Anyone else who has been as sick as you would have died," replied Mana. "But you are still recovering. As soon as you get stronger, I'm sure Neah will want to play with you. Maybe mother will even let you come outside and play with us."

"I'm gonna work hard to become stronger!" declared Rory. He smiled at his older brother.

"That's the spirit," said Mana. "Now how about we play our own game and let the lovebirds play on their own."

"Okay! I just got some new toy soldiers from Rhian the other day! We could play with those!" stated Rory. He crawled out from under the stairs and took his older brother by the hand. Together they walked up the stairs.

oOo

It was a very odd request. First off, Rhian never really asked anyone for anything. Second, he could never remember a time when the old bat was sick. The fact that she wanted him to give Rory a bath seemed to be an astronomical leap in faith.

"It has to be done today," she said in a very raspy voice. She was lying on her cot in the small closet sized room that was called her bedroom. "No later than 1800 hours."

"Alright, alright," he said. "I'll go get him right now then."

She grabbed his arm, causing him to turn back towards her. "Take this with you," she stated. She handed him a bottle filled with some sort of dark liquid in it. "Wash his hair with it. Do you remember that color enchantment from the green book?"

"Yes," he replied. She pulled him down to her level so that her mouth was right next to his ear.

"Mutter that as you wash his hair. And make sure he doesn't look in the mirror," Rhian whispered into his ear. Gitano gave her a confused look, but nevertheless he went to do as she said when she let him go.

He found Rory sitting in front of the piano in the sitting room. He was trying to pluck out some sort of tune (fortunately he seemed to have more musical intuition than Road). Mana sat in an armchair nearby reading, and Lady Arienne sat in the next chair over embroidering a new handkerchief with Rory's initials. Neah was nowhere to be seen.

"Um…" he began. Everyone in the room looked up at him.

"What is it?" asked Lady Arienne, fixing him in one of her most intimidating stares.

"Rhian sent me to fetch Lord Rory for his bath," he said.

"Why doesn't she do this herself?" inquired Mana.

"She's not well today," he replied. Everyone seemed curious now.

"Perhaps I should call for a doctor," mused Lady Arienne.

"That old lady is never sick," muttered Mana, going back to reading his book.

"There are extra blankets in the closet upstairs," said Rory. "I always used extra blankets when I was sick."

"Well, Lord Rory, I still need to give you a bath, so come on," Gitano stated. The little boy stood up and followed him up the stairs to the bath.

He checked the bath to make sure it wasn't too hot. It burnt the tips of his fingers and he drew back with a hiss. He waited for ten minutes and checked the water again. It was pleasantly warm this time, so he motioned for Rory to hop into the tub.

"I can wash myself," said the boy defiantly. Gitano stepped back as Rory reached for the soap. He prayed to God that Rory was not becoming a pain in the neck like his brothers. That would be the last thing he needed.

Rory rinsed the suds off his body. Gitano noted that there was a ring of gray water around him, which might have explained why Rhian washed him so often. Rhian got a bath about twice as often as everyone else in the house (which meant about four times as often as he had a bath).

"You can wash my hair now," he stated, turning his big silver eyes up towards Gitano.

"Alright, close your eyes," he said. He took a small bowl from the table by the tub and filled it with the warm bathwater.

As the water poured over Rory's head, Gitano was astonished to see the little boy's hair turn a reddish-brown color like his mother's hair. He held in a gasp.

"Rhian normally sings to me when washing my hair," remarked Rory.

Now he understood.

Gitano took out the bottle of liquid and poured it onto the boys head. He began to chant. "_Be like the petals of the flowers that die and turn darker, darker_. _Be like the clouds in the night sky and turn darker, darker. Be like the eyes of the wounded beast and turn darker, darker. Be like the heart that love has forsaken and turn darker, darker. Dark as a shadow close to dusk, hide the light strands, thee I trust. Remain in the darkness 'til next I call, then might you unwind darkness all._"

When he finished he saw that Rory's hair was pitch black once again. The water in the tub was a murky gray, but when Rory stood up he was perfectly clean.

"Thanks for the help!" he said with a smile. As soon as Rory was dry and dressed in his dinner clothes Gitano went to see Rhian again in her room.

"His hair isn't black," was all that he said to her.

"It isn't," she agreed. She hadn't even bothered to turn away from the wall and face him.

"He doesn't know that, does he?" he asked.

"Only you and I know this. This tidbit also isn't leaving this room, understood?" she said. "Everyone believes that Lady Arienne gave birth to three healthy Noah children. If people found out that she only gave birth to two, then everyone here is as good as dead, except for Mana and Neah."

"Is that why you said he wasn't like the others?" he inquired.

Rhian finally turned away from the wall. "It's precisely why he isn't like the others," she replied.

**Alright scandal! Shall the other Noah find out that Rory is not one of them? I suppose that's for you to find out… Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3: Beim Schlafengehen

**Alright here's part three! I had to cut off the end for lengths sake, so the next chapter should be a bit shorter than this one. Thanks to Alice Nyte, TheParadoxicalOtaku, and April Marciano for the lovely reviews/favorites! Warning: things are kind of dark in this chapter. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: You already know I don't own D. Gray-man or the works of Hermann Hesse/Richard Strauss.**

**Part Three: Beim Schlafengehen**

"_Hands, stop all your work. Brow, forget all your thinking. All my senses now yearn to sink into slumber._"

Hermann Hesse

The world must have been ending, for Lady Arienne was going out by herself today. Apparently she was headed to a ball for the local nobility, and children were not invited. Rhian was to keep an eye on all of them, but still he was to watch over the Walker boys. She left with Lord Camelot and Lord Tykki. Like always, Road and Sophia came to call. They would be spending the night at Walker Manor, for the adults would not be back until late.

The Walker boys and road soon grew tired of their usual games. Since it was too hard to keep an eye on all three Walker boys if they were to split up, Lady Arienne had forbidden Neah and Mana from going outside. That didn't matter much since it was too dark, cold, and wet to play outside anyhow.

"I'm bored," groaned Road. She was lying on her back staring at the ceiling. The fabric of her dress was spread out like ocean waves covering the beach at high tide.

"Read a book," suggested Mana. He was doing just that as he lay on his stomach on the Oriental rug covering the floor.

"But that's boring," replied Road. She turned onto her left side to look at Neah. He was staring out the window at the last remnants of sunlight. "What do you want to do, Neah?"

"I don't know," he said. Gitano saw his hands twitched. He knew that Neah probably wanted to practice the piano, but ever since Road's temper tantrum over that he had refrained from playing in her presence.

"You're being dreadfully dull today," she giggled, "almost as dull as Rory."

Rory had been sitting on the rug playing with Mana's toy train. He looked down at the carpet at Road's words, tears brimming in his eyes. Sophia began to look through her apron pocket for a clean handkerchief.

"I know!" exclaimed Road, sitting up on the carpet. "Let's play a game!"

"What kind of a game?" inquired Neah.

"Hide-and-go-seek!" she cried out in delight. She stood and ran over to Neah, taking him by the hand. "It will be lots of fun! Such a big house must have loads of places to hide."

"I want to play!" shouted Rory. Neah looked down at his twin on the floor. "Please?"

"Everyone has to play, even Mana, Sophia, and the Git," stated Road.

"I've never played before…" said Sophia, wringing her hands.

"I'm not sure Lady Arienne would like if we joined," Gitano admitted.

"Nonsense! She can't say anything if I _ordered_ you to play with us," said Road. She stared at the two servant children. "Now the two of you are going to play Hide-and-Seek with all of us and act like you are having fun."

"Yes, m'am," Gitano and Sophia replied. Great, now he had to play with the brats. This would completely ruin any sense of authority he may have had over them.

"I don't play games," stated Mana.

"Yes you do," retorted Road. "You played Train with us the other day. Don't try to say that this is a dumb 'children's game,' Mana Walker. Hiding is an important life skill, especially for our kind."

"What are you all up to?" asked Rhian. She was carrying a mop and bucket up the staircase in the foyer.

"We're going to play Hide-and-Seek," responded Road casually.

"Alright, but I'm going to make a couple rules," said Rhian. They all looked up at the old woman. "First off, no climbing the curtains. Second, if you move something in the kitchen or my quarters then you put it back. And lastly, no one is to go into the basement. That one comes from Lady Arienne herself."

As soon as Rhian was out of earshot, Road turned to conspire with Neah. "Why do you think we can't go into the basement?" she inquired.

"I don't know," replied Neah. "There's probably something down there."

Gitano was pretty sure what it was; Lady Arienne had volunteered to keep the 'Innocence' in her house until Uncle Adam needed it again. As curious as he was he was definitely keeping them away from the basement today.

"What is it?" whispered Sophia in his ear.

"Can't tell you about it now," he stated quietly. "I do know that it's pretty strong though. It's something that makes certain people stronger, maybe even stronger than Lord Adam."

They looked at the door. He didn't notice that they weren't alone in this action.

oOo

He volunteered to seek first. It would just make the whole process easier since in the end he would have been chosen to look for the others anyhow. That didn't mean he would have to find them right away. Gitano decided to take his good old time finding the brats. It would be nice for him to have a half hour to himself. If he found Rory or Sophia, then that wouldn't be too bad either. Plus, he was pretty sure Road would throw a temper tantrum if she was found first.

Gitano walked around aimlessly in the foyer for ten minutes before he slowly began his search. Luckily no one decided to hide under the stairs or in the closet by the front door. He moved on to his quarters and the Rhian's room next door. No one had hidden in there either. All the better, he thought. He was beginning to like Hide-and-Seek. Gitano was pretty certain that everyone would have hidden upstairs or maybe in the sitting room, but he'd give it another five minutes before he headed in that direction.

His search moved to the kitchen where he took a small apple from a bowl of fruit by the window. He would need some nutrition to continue his 'arduous' search. Gitano smirked to himself, but then wiped the smile off his face. He didn't want the brats thinking that he was actually having fun. That would entirely ruin his good mood; for he was sure Neah and Road would never let him live it down.

He really wished things could have stayed that way, but he was horror-stricken when he opened the kitchen door. The basement door in the hall just outside was wide open. Gitano ran to the now-open doorway and peered down the stairs. He couldn't see any light, but he heard a voice.

"Rory!" it hissed. He recognized it instantaneously. It was Sophia. "Rory! You shouldn't be down here."

"Well then what are you doing here, Sophia?" the little boy asked. He seemed a bit annoyed. Gitano looked out in the hall for a candle and a small box of matches.

"I saw you going down here," she replied. "You heard what Rhian said. We shouldn't be down here."

"I heard what Gitano said too," stated Rory. His words seemed to bite into the darkness that was practically tangible in the open door. Gitano finally found some matches in a drawer of an end table. He struck the first one, but it fell out of his trembling hands. He quickly stamped it out. "He said that there's something strong down here- something that might be able to make me stronger than Uncle Adam."

Gitano froze at hearing his words repeated almost verbatim by the tiny seven year old. He resolved then and there that if he got the two of them out of the basement without anyone having known they were there, then he'd never tell secrets ever again.

"That's still only a might," pleaded Sophia. "Please come back upstairs with me!"

"I'm weaker than all of them!" Rory cried. "I'm tired of Mama and Mana thinking that I'm fragile! I'm tired of Road seeing me as nothing but a weakling! And I'm tired of Neah thinking that I can't be as strong as him! He keeps muttering things like 'he's not like the rest of us' and when I asks what he means he just walks away! I don't want to be left behind any longer!"

Neah knew, Gitano realized in horror as he attempted to strike another match. This one broke in half. Neah had somehow figured out that Rory did not have the Noah blood even though the two of them were twins.

With the third match he was able to light the candle. He then ran as fast as he could down the basement stairs without making noise. "I swear," he growled, "you two better get out of here right now. Come on."

He could see Rory standing in front of a once-chained wooden crate. A large pair of hedge trimmers sat on the ground next to the broken chains. At any other time he would have been impressed with this feat of strength by the little boy, but now was not that time. Rory placed his hands on the lid of the crate.

"Can you hear it singing?" Rory asked Sophia. He seemed to be in some kind of trance now, his silver eyes glazed over.

"I-I don't understand," said Sophia. Gitano looked over at his friend and saw that her eyes had a glazed-over look to them as well. "I hear a voice singing too. Rory, please, let's go back upstairs. It's scaring me."

He was worried. Now the two of them were hearing voices.

"Sophia is right. We're going back upstairs now," he asserted. He grabbed Sophia's closest hand.

"Don't you hear it, Gitano?" inquired Rory.

"I don't hear a damned thing," he responded. He moved to grab Rory as well.

That's when Rory opened the crate.

"Rory, no!" screamed Sophia. She moved in front of Gitano to grab at the little boy.

Whatever was in the crate exploded in a burst of bright white light. Gitano yelped as he fell to the ground. Sophia fell beside him, shrieking and clutching her hands over her ears. He heard Rory hit the ground too. The light subsided some and Gitano looked up to check on the other two.

Sophia appeared to be fine. She was still screaming, but he didn't see any serious injuries besides a small bump on her head. "Are you okay?" he asked. He wanted to be absolutely positive that she was okay.

She stopped screaming and began to cry. She let go of her ears and grabbed her knees as she curled up into a ball on the floor. Gitano picked her up so that she was sitting next to him clutching her knees. "I-I-I'm f-f-f-f-fine," she gasped between sobs. "I-I-I-I was j-j-just s-so s-s-s-scared." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Then he looked up to check on Rory. The little boy had sat up. He looked perfectly fine, except there was something wrong with his left hand. There was a little green cross glowing on the back of his left hand. Gitano had never seen anything like it. Sophia stopped crying and also stared at the mesmerizing green light.

"What is this?" questioned Rory. He lifted his hand to look at the green cross.

He heard a pair of feet pound down the stairs. "Are you all dumb?" he heard Neah inquire. The boy kicked the now flameless candle across the floor. "Rhian said not to-"

Neah stopped and stared at his twin brother, and Rory stared back into Neah's golden eyes. The golden-eyed twin lunged forward and grabbed his twin by the collar of his shirt. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?" hollered Neah.

"I don't know!" exclaimed Rory, clearly overwhelmed by his now furious twin. "I just opened that crate over there and it exploded in my face!"

Neah's eyes narrowed dangerously. He then proceeded to drag Rory up the basement stairs. "You really are an idiot," he grumbled.

Gitano helped Sophia to her feet, and they climbed the stairs after the twins. "Neah!" he called.

"I've got this under control, Git, so just stay out of my way!" shouted the boy.

By the time he had reached the top of the entrance hall Neah and Rory were already on the second floor. He heard the door to Neah's room open and slam shut.

oOo

He didn't know what to do. He'd left Sophia on the cot in his room and followed the twins upstairs. That was when he had discovered that Neah had locked the door. Gitano had tried everything: asking nicely, pleading, begging, threatening, yelling, but the door did not open. He was about to go down to the kitchen and grave the butcher knife and cut the door knob off when he saw Mana come down the hall.

"I thought we were playing Hide-and-Seek," he said. He looked very bored.

"Where's Road," asked Gitano. He didn't want to ask her- for he had no idea if Road would react the same way as Neah had- but he could really use her space warping abilities right now.

"She fell asleep in the nursery about an hour ago," replied Mana. "Neah sure doesn't like to play fairly at Hide-and-Seek."

"Yeah…" he stated in agreement.

Mana took out a pocket knife and began fiddling with the lock. "Neah never locks his door right," Mana told him. He heard a click and the door swung open.

Gitano was pretty sure he had seen Neah's room before, and this room was not Neah's room. It looked like a small city filled with pure white buildings. "What?" he inquired.

"Great," groaned Mana. "Now we're going to have to search the entire ark."

"Pardon?" Gitano questioned. He really hated being in the dark on this matter.

"You know how Road can warp space," said Mana impatiently. Gitano nodded. "Well Neah can control doors to this place. It's called the ark. Now where would he hide in here?"

"Hell if I know," he practically spat. "I thought he and Rory went into his bedroom."

"Rory went with him?" asked Mana. Gitano nodded once again. "That's odd. I do suppose that Neah's room is the best place to start though."

Mana walked through the door into the white city. Gitano followed him with caution. Something seemed to be off about this place, almost as if it was evil itself. He wouldn't be surprised, seeing as it was controlled by Neah of all people. He noticed that Mana continued on into the center of the city. The further in they went the higher up they got. Pretty soon they were in a tower climbing a spiral staircase.

He heard a scream. Mana tensed up and then quickened his pace. "Neah, leave me alone!" yelped the voice.

"You don't understand! It has to come off! It's evil!" yelled Neah.

Gitano began to run up the stairs. He passed Mana, and as he did the boy also began to run. Another scream sounded, this one closer.

"You're hurting me!" he heard Rory shriek.

"Stop running around! I only need your hand!" bellowed Neah.

"NO!" shouted Rory.

He reached the door at the top at the same time as Mana. Rory was backed into a corner opposite to the door. Neah held a sword in his two hands. It was plain wrong seeing such a scene in this room, for it truly was a beautiful room. There was one wall that was completely covered by glass windowpanes that looked over the entire city. Gitano funnily enough, was pretty sure he hadn't seen the window from outside. A plush white carpet covered most of the floor except for a small section covered in light wooden paneling. It was on this wooden section that a stand-up piano made of pure white wood sat with a matching cushioned bench. There were a couple chairs, a table, and a sofa to match this set.

A large bucket filled with a steaming, foul smelling liquid sat next to the table. Several sharp metal instruments sat on top of the table. Gitano saw the sheath for the sword Neah was carrying was among the objects.

"Neah," said Mana. He took one step into the room towards his two younger brothers. "What the hell is going on?"

"Keep away, Mana," threatened the younger boy. "I have to do this."

"Neah, you look like a mad man. Let Rory go," stated Mana. He took another step forward.

"Can't you see this?" asked Neah. He yanked Rory's left hand forward to show his elder brother. "He's become a monster! He synchronized with the Innocence that Mother was keeping for Uncle Adam!"

The green cross shined as it was exposed to the light of the white room. It stuck out even more from Rory's now raw red arm.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIS ARM?" he hollered at Neah. He started to walk forward towards Neah, but Mana flung an arm out to stop him.

"Rory, are you okay?" he inquired. Rory only sniffed in response, his large silver eyes looking up at Mana. "Just hang tight there for a moment."

"LET ME GO!" Gitano yelled at Mana. "NEAH WILL KILL HIM!"

"I know," replied Mana.

He was horrified. It seemed that Mana was perfectly willing to let Neah continue on with the sword.

"That's why I'm not going to let him," Mana finished. He stepped forward, his raven hair waving back and forth as he walked towards Neah.

"Why even bother? Uncle Adam will kill him even if I don't," said Neah.

"We don't have to let Uncle Adam find out," snapped Mana. "If we all keep our mouths shut then we can just pretend that it didn't happen until Rhian can find a way to remove it."

"You don't want to fight me, Mana," snarled Neah. "You know I'm stronger than you are. I control everything in this place."

"But this won't be leaving this room," responded Mana, "because you value your privacy too much. Only I know how to find you in the ark, and I will always find you."

The piano began to play itself and another door opened. Neah shifted the sword to his right hand and grabbed Rory with his left. He disappeared quickly through the door, Mana right on their tails. Gitano barely made it through the door before it closed.

It seemed like the whole situation was turning into some messed up version of Hide-and-Seek. He was beginning to despise the game now. Neah kept opening doors that Mana would somehow manage to sneak through or find moments after they'd disappeared.

"Just give up already!" screamed Neah over his shoulder.

"If you kill Rory then Mother will never forgive you!" Mana shouted back. The last door had disappeared a moment before Mana could grab it. They were in the middle of what looked like the town square. There must have been over a dozen doors in that part of the ark. He was stunned when Mana reached for a door to his right and opened it to reveal Neah and Rory.

"Mother will be even sadder when she learns that Rory synchronized with the Innocence that she was supposed to protect," spat Neah. He was holding Rory in a headlock. Rory whimpered like a kitten about to be drowned. "Uncle Adam would never forgive either of them. Do you want both Mother and Rory to die? I wasn't even planning on killing him. I was just going to cut his hand off."

"That would kill him anyhow, you idiot!" yelled Gitano. He was at the end of his fuse. Neah was really going to get it this time if he didn't stop with this nonsense.

Black tendrils shot out of the cracks between the cobblestone street and wrapped around Neah's arms and legs. He dropped Rory.

"Take Rory and run!" bellowed Mana. "I can hold him off for a bit! Take him to Rhian and see what she can do about this!"

He didn't need to be told twice. Gitano grabbed Rory by his unhurt arm and began to run through the streets of the ark. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, for almost every street looked the same. The door back into the house should still be open, he thought. That meant that if headed out far enough he would reach the edge of town and the door back home would be waiting there for him and Rory.

After fifteen minutes of navigating through the twisting streets Rory finally spoke. "Could we slow down a little?" he begged. "I'm so tired."

"Neah might catch us, though," he reminded the boy. Rory looked ready to cry again. "How's your arm."

"It stopped hurting a little while back, but I can't seem to move it," sniffed the boy.

"I'll wash it off when we get back," said Gitano. He heard a door begin to open up behind them. "RORY RUN!" He pushed the boy in front of him, and fortunately Rory had a enough sense to follow his command. He felt something hit him a few minutes after Rory disappeared around the bend of the street. He fell onto his face. Before he could pick himself back up and foot landed in the middle of his back, forcing him back down.

"Oh, it's just you, Git," Neah sneered. "Where's my brother?"

"I have no bloody idea where either of those brats is," he snapped back. "Get off of me!"

"I don't want to know where Mana is," barked Neah. "Where is Rory? Mana sent him off with you."

"I said I don't know!" he yelled. He felt the blade of the sword come to rest next to his neck.

"I'd start thinking, you liar," stated Neah coldly.

"Neah, you're fighting me. Let Git go," said Mana. Gitano tipped his head up enough to see the older boy enter from a door farther down the street.

"Fine," replied Neah. He felt the blade move away from his neck and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized until he sighed that he'd been worried at all. "Obviously he's still in here somewhere. I doubt Git came back to rescue you." Neah opened a door in the air in front of him and disappeared.

"Where's Rory?" asked Mana. He looked much disheveled at the moment, long strands of his black hair escaping his low pony-tail.

"I sent him off because I heard a door opening, so I thought it was probably Neah," he replied. Gitano stood up and looked around the street. "I suppose I should go towards the door. Neah will just follow me if I go looking for him."

"That's true," said Mana. "I'll follow as soon as I find Rory." He turned and began running down the street in the direction Gitano had sent Rory. Suddenly he stopped. "Do you really think Rhian can turn him back to normal?"

"It's worth a shot," he responded. "She'll at least know how to handle the situation."

Mana nodded at him and then continued on his way. Gitano took a side street to continue on the downward sloping path. After another ten minutes he found the open door to Walker Manor. He was about to step through when he heard shouting.

"Mana! Neah! Stop it! Please don't hurt Mana, Neah! Please!"

Damn it. Of course they'd all run into each other now. He looked at the door and then he looked to his right up a street where he had heard the noise coming from. He turned right and bounded up the street. As he suspected Mana and Neah were fighting in the middle of a street. Neah was swinging the sword wildly at his older brother. He obviously had no idea how to use it, but he was still pretty close to hitting Mana a couple times. Mana was picking up chairs and flower boxes that he used to black Neah's blows. Occasionally he sent up a weak shadow to block the blow instead. Obviously he was close to running out of whatever power this was.

Several of the objects were knocked out of his hands into the neighboring buildings. The door behind him was taking a very bad beating. Gitano could even see dents in the door. He was going to have to avoid ever getting into a fist fight with the Walker boys. They'd probably be beastly strong by the time they grew up.

With a good kick, Neah swept Mana's legs out from under him. He fell with a yelp in front of the younger golden-eyed boy.

Neah went to stab his older brother but a small pair of arms grasped onto his to prevent the sword from lowering. "I said to stop it!" shrieked Rory.

"GET OFF OF ME!" roared Neah. He shook Rory off and turned on him.

"Rory get out of the way!" hollered Mana. He pushed Rory away from the path of the sword.

It didn't look like he had pushed Rory hard. That was why he was surprised that when Rory crashed into the battered door that it gave away. Both Mana and Neah froze in their spots.

Gitano ran over to the door. "RORY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" he called. He had to stop himself on the doorframe, for when he looked inside he saw nothing. There wasn't even a room there. Only pitch black emptiness. "W-where did he go?"

He turned to look at Mana and Neah. Neah looked plain shocked, but Mana's face was filled with horror.

"You pushed him through the nothing door," said Neah blankly. He dropped the sword.

"I-I-I didn't think it would give out," replied Mana. "Where does that go?"

"Uncle Adam said to never go through the nothing door," stated Neah. He sunk down to the ground. "No one knows where it actually goes."

"You mean Rory's gone?" Gitano asked incredulously.

Tears were pouring down Mana's face. He looked up at the sky and uttered a guttural cry.

"Yes," said Neah. He hadn't even looked at Gitano or his older brother the entire time. "He's gone."

**Wow that was a really long chapter. Poor Rory! Whatever shall his mother say? Props to whoever thinks they've got Rory figured out now. ;) Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Im Abendrot

**Okay, I have returned! I'm going to try and get up two-ish chapters this week because finals are fast approaching… but don't hold me to it. XD But anyhow, I'm interested in knowing how far people would like to see this story go. I have specific plans for it all the way up to Neah's demise, but I'm willing to go as far as the point where Mana is turned into an akuma. If you have any strong opinion on the matter then feel free to say so in a review or even private message me. Anyhow, without further ado here is the last of the Four Last Songs.**

**The Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: Yup. Still don't own the rights to D. Gray-man nor am I a famous dead composer or poet (yet!).**

**Part Four: Im Abendrot**

"_Let us not lose our way in this solitude_."

Joseph von Eichendorff

As soon as the three of them stumbled out of the doorway back into Walker Manor he knew they were in trouble. Rhian stood there with her cleaning supplies from earlier looking down at them viciously over her wrinkled nose. They followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen, Mana trying to wipe away flowing tears in vain. Neah was actually quaking in fear.

When they reached the kitchen Rhian turned on the three of them. "What happened in there?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. Gitano decided for once to let the Walker boys take Rhian's wrath. Heaven knows what would happen to him when Lady Arienne returned home seeing that one of her children had vanished from their very plain of existence.

Mana seemed to be incapable of speech at the moment. Neah began to talk. "I-I-I don't know how it h-h-h-h-happened, b-b-b-b-b-but-" stammered the normally eloquent boy.

Apparently Rhian was impatient for she pointed a finger at him and shot Neah with a jet of light. The boy slumped over onto the floor, fast asleep. "Well?" she inquired. She was looking directly at Mana.

"W-we were playing Hide-and-Seek," he began. Somehow he managed to tell the entire tragic tale without sobbing in the middle (that was not the case at the end). There were many emotions present in Rhian's eyes by the end. After handing her handkerchief to Mana, she began pacing around the room.

"Did Rory really disapper?" she questioned Gitano.

"Yes," he replied. "He's gone. Can you get him back?"

She hit him upside the head. "Time is not something to mess with, idiot," she snapped. "I've told you already that it's not easy to mess with the dimensions of time-"

"Space, life, death, and truth because it will only end badly," he finished. "I was listening, you know."

Rhian gave him a withering look, so Gitano resolved to stop talking. Her eyes then softened and she sat back down. "It could be that this is a punishment," she said.

"A punishment? What kind of a punishment?" asked Mana.

Rhian took a deep breath and looked at Neah. The boy showed no sign of stirring. "I'll tell you both this once, so you better not interrupt," she stated. "And don't ever ask me about it again because it would be disastrous if Adam found out."

Mana was about ready to butt in already, so Gitano gave him a smack upside the head just as Rhian had done to him. God, that felt good, he thought to himself as he watched Mana glare at him and rub the bump now forming on his head. As the two of them nursed the respective bumps on their heads, Rhian began her tale.

oOo

"I wasn't always a cook or a maid for that matter," she said. "For years I told fortunes for a travelling circus. It wasn't a great life, but it was better than living out on the streets. Plus I had noticed at a young age that I was different, so there's no better way to blend in than to live in a huge group of freaks."

"That somehow sounds familiar…" muttered Gitano. He pretended to not be staring at Mana and Neah, but Mana noticed and stuck his tongue out at him.

"Being a fortune teller had its perks," continued Rhian. "I pretty much knew everything about everyone whether they wanted me to or not. Everyone at the circus came to me with their problems or with the latest gossip, the latter group thinking that that was how I gained my great insight. I'm not sure what they would have said had they really known about my abilities."

"One day a young girl came into my tent. The circus had just moved to a site outside of London, but apparently word about my predictions had arrived before I had. I had not opened shop for the day, but the girl was crying most bitterly so I let her stay. I asked what was troubling her, although I could already tell her it was a friendship issue. The girl- she was called Elizabeth by the by- proceeded to tell me the strangest tale."

Mana was getting ready to speak again, so Gitano poised his hand hoping to get in a second slap (he was sure it would be more satisfying that the first) when Rhian held a hand up. "Before you ask, Mana, this Elizabeth is the same Lady Elizabeth that is holding the ball tonight. She was your mother's best friend at the time, and I'm sure Elizabeth still counts your mother as her most trusted friend. They grew up together much like you and Lady Road have. Lady Arienne's mother had passed away in childbirth while her father had succumbed to pneumonia when she was fifteen. She spent much of her time with Elizabeth at her family's manor and even lived with them for the two winters after her father's death. Anyhow, Elizabeth told me about how your mother had married a strange man who had come to town about a year ago. She had only ever seen Lord Walker at the wedding reception since only his family was invited to the ceremony, and she had not gotten a good look at him. Hardly anyone in town had bothered themselves about the entire state of affairs and months later people were excitedly anticipating the birth of her first child."

"At the age of eighteen her first child was born, a son whom she named Mana- yes, that was you, boy," said Rhian to the very attentive Mana. Gitano was trying very hard not to seem interested in the story, but there was something… off about the whole thing that he was sure Rhian knew about. He really wanted to know what it was. "Elizabeth was happy for her friend and came to see her after the child was born. He was a handsome child with thick raven-colored hair, definitely a child that people would describe as beautiful. Then the baby opened his eyes. You can imagine that Elizabeth was more than shocked to see such bright golden eyes staring at her like they were judging her very soul."

"Needless to say she was very worried about her friend and the child, and when she asked her nurse about people with golden eyes the old woman had responded that golden-eyed people are people who have made deals with the devil himself. Elizabeth did not know who to turn to after that for she was sure that her friend would not want to hear this, and she knew that the townspeople might go after the baby if they heard about his eyes. That was what brought her to my tent."

"I'm not saying that you made a deal with the devil, Mana, but I'm sure you've noticed by now that golden eyes are not normal amongst the everyday populace. Your mother, for example, has gray eyes. But back to Elizabeth: she wanted me to use my foresight to see what I could about her friend and the child. As I gazed into my crystal ball, however, I could see nothing. I didn't want to worry the girl, so I told her to come back the next day so that I might have more time."

"I looked into my crystal ball for the entire day, but still I could see nothing. So that night I pulled out… certain items for stronger magic. Gitano, I never want you to try what I did, for spirits can be temperamental. Truly, I was lucky that they did not devour me as I called upon them for they were in an uproar. I learned that something was stolen from their realm, but they couldn't tell me what. I learned, though, that the child was not a demon, which put my thoughts at ease. However, they gave me a special duty as a fellow magic user. I was to watch over the child and its mother, for they spoke of misfortune if they were left alone."

"Elizabeth returned the next day, and I told her that they child was perfectly normal. She was happy with that answer and left. I left the circus that day and sought employment at Walker Manor. I discovered that the entire household staff had disappeared over the past year, which was greatly concerning. At first, Lady Arienne was wary of me, but the baby took to me, so she hired me immediately."

"Not much happened over the next year except that Lady Arienne was with child once again. She was often tired, so I was left with the task of caring for Mana. Mana was greatly fascinated with my magical abilities, so on nights when he would not stop crying I would cast spells that would make flowers bloom or create little multicolor light baubles. This was how your mother became aware of my abilities, so she would often ask me about the child she was with. It was when she first asked that I realized that she was to have twins- identical twins."

"She was greatly pleased by this. So was her extended family. In this time I came to know the Camelots, Lady Lulubell, Lord Skin, and all the others. I noted that they truly were an odd family and that every one of them had golden eyes just like Mana. One day Lord Camelot came by with a baby of his own- Lady Road. This was certainly peculiar seeing as Lord Camelot did not keep a wife or a mistress. It is still just him and Road living in that old manor."

"The long awaited day finally came and the twins were born. I helped with the birth, for Lady Arienne refused to have anyone else there. The first child looked very similar to Mana: golden eyes and raven hair. The second, however, was different. I could feel that something was wrong, for my foresight had told me they were identical twins. Despite this fact the second babe had reddish-brown hair and gray eyes that shined like silver. I could feel a lightness in my heart as I held that child. Your mother asked if everything was alright. I didn't know what to say, so I told her the first looked just like Mana. She asked about the second. I told your mother that he had her eyes. There was a slight look of displeasure in her face at that mention, so I did not have the heart to tell her that he had her hair color as well. The woman mentioned something about him not having awakened yet, but she fell asleep soon afterwards seeing as she'd been up most the night."

"I took the two boys to clean them. As I washed the first I realized something that I hadn't noticed before. In my mind eye when I had first held him I had seen nothing but darkness. As I washed the second the darkness faded and a brilliant light filled my mind. I felt very protective of this child and the goodness that I could see in his soul. I remembered the look on his mother's face after hearing that he did not look like his brothers, and I began to fear for his life. It was because of this that I first dyed Rory's hair. I felt that if Lady Arienne still had hope she would love the boy just like her other sons, which was correct. I think after time she grew to love his eyes and his gentle nature just as I did."

"There was still the question of why they were different, so after leaving the babies with their mother I went to my quarters and called upon the spirits again. If the first time was bad, then the second time was even worse. They howled about how a hole had been ripped into their dimension, and that this hole would cause the destruction of space and time itself. I was very frightened. Somehow I knew that this hole had been ripped open by the birth of those twin boys, but I couldn't fathom why."

"It was after a few years that I began to understand the whole situation. While Mana could brood, the first twin whom Lady Arienne named Neah had something in him that was truly evil. When he threw tantrums it was practically impossible to calm him. Rory, on the other hand, would never scream or bite or throw things like his brother. This was because they were _identical_ twins. When they had split in Lady Arienne's womb they had split along polar halves: everything that was the darkness of their souls went to Neah while all of their goodness went to Rory. That is why Rory would never be a Noah because he was completely human while Neah has caused a rift by creating a 14th Noah."

oOo

Gitano was very confused. He had never heard Lord Camelot or any of the others refer to themselves by a number. Mana, however, seemed to know what Rhian was talking about. His golden eyes were wide with horror just as they had been when Rory had fallen through the nothing door. "Won't Neah be unstable then?" he asked Rhian after a brief moment of silence.

"I can't be certain, but this could cause some sort of instability," she replied. "It depends on whether Rory died or not."

"Rory did not die," asserted Mana. He clenched the kitchen counter with both hands. "He'll come back."

"You seem certain of that," stated Rhian.

"I am certain," he responded.

She turned to address Gitano. "What do you think, Gitano?" she inquired.

He didn't notice the glimmer in her eye until after he spoke. It was the glimmer that said no matter what he thought she had made up her mind already. "Well, if Rory had died then his goodness would either die with him or it would latch onto Neah, and in that case he'd be experiencing some odd behavior. For instance he would be running a temperature or trying to scratch his skin off-"

"So you think Rory is alive, too?" she questioned.

"Yes, I do," he said.

"Very well then," declared Rhian, standing up from her chair. She looked out of the dark kitchen window. "Someone is going to have to wait for him."

"We're waiting already," scoffed Gitano. He was pretty sure that was obvious.

Rhian hit him upside the head. "If you'd stop making snide comments then things wouldn't seem so obvious, idiot. I meant that someone is going to have to wait for him outside- away from Walker Manor," Rhian snapped.

Mana and Gitano looked at her with wide eyes. What was she implying?

"I'm not certain what Lady Arienne will do once she discovers what has happened, and Adam may very well destroy everyone here. We need someone to leave this house to wait for Rory," she continued. She turned to Mana. "Rory will want someone he feels safe with when he returns. Are you willing to do anything for your little brother, Mana Walker?"

Mana screwed up his face in disapproval. "You want me to leave home and live on the streets while waiting for Rory to return?" he asked in disbelief.

"That would be the general idea," said Gitano. He ducked as Rhian's hand came close to his head again.

"I don't think Neah is willing to do it, so it might as well be you," replied Rhian. "We don't know when the child will return, so it must be someone who is young waiting for him. I may very well be dead by the time he comes back."

"This is completely mental," grumbled Mana. He rubbed his temples.

"If you think that is mental, then you haven't heard the half of it yet," stated Rhian. "Whoever leaves will have to take the entire fault with them. Your _family_ cannot know what happened here tonight. They cannot know that Rory became an accommodator. That means that whoever waits for Rory will be at fault for the missing Innocence in the basement and Rory's 'death.' They will never be allowed to return to Walker Manor and must remain wary of the clan of Noah for the rest of their life."

"Now that's asking too much!" shouted Mana. He let go of the counter and walked toward Rhian. "You want me to give up my home, my family, and my duty?"

"No," responded Rhian, "I want you to give up everything. It means you will no longer be a lord of the Walker Estate."

Mana glared at her silently, his fists tensing and relaxing by his sides.

"It all comes down to who you love more: your _family_ or Rory," said Rhian. She turned to face Mana. "I never said it was going to be easy. Your mother and the others will probably never forgive you. I'll give you time to think it over. If your answer is still no by witching hour, then I'll wake Neah and force him to leave. That will be a bit of a messy affair, though."

Rhian walked out into the back hall where her quarters were. Gitano was stunned to say the least. One of the brats was going to have to leave to cover this whole thing up. "Oh, and no matter which one of them go, you're going with them, Gitano," said Rhian from inside the hallway.

oOo

He lay on his back on his room's floor. Sophia was still sleeping soundly in his cot, only occasionally rolling over in her slumber. His eyes turned soft as he watched her sleep on. Gitano wondered what she would say when he was gone in the morning. Rhian would probably never tell her why he left and force her to remain quiet about the whole basement affair.

He had packed an old canvas bag that Rhian left in his room without much thought about her words. It was strange to think he was finally leaving this place of torment, but it had not seemed to hit him in its full reality yet. Perhaps it was because he'd been so used to wandering aimlessly all of his childhood. Gitano smirked to himself. He didn't really have the right to think such things, for he still was a child. He was pretty certain he had not reached ten years of age yet.

He looked at a coverless watch that he had pilfered from the garbage several years back while traveling through London. The glass plating over the hands had broken long ago, but the clock still worked. It was a quarter to three.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a light rapping on the door. Whoever it was opened it without him even waiting for his consent.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," grumbled Mana Walker. Gitano sat up to look at him. Rhian had apparently dug some of his things out of the wash and given them to Mana. Despite being slightly shorter than he was, the clothes still looked better on the golden-eyed boy. "Let's just get going."

Gitano nodded his head in agreement and grabbed his bag. They had made it to the kitchen door when he heard a small voice behind them.

"Where are you going?" asked Sophia. She stood in the doorway of his room looking at Mana and him as she rubbed sleep out of her eyes.

He really wished she had stayed asleep. "Sophia, we must go," he said. "I know it sounds abrupt, but we really must."

"You're leaving?" she inquired.

"Yeah," he replied.

Her gray eyes began to fill with tears. "I want to go with you!" she cried.

"Sophia…" he began to say.

"You should go back to sleep," interrupted Mana. "It's our problem now, so try not to get too involved."

"Gitano, please!" she sobbed. "I don't want to be alone!"

He looked away from her to stare at the door frame beside him. "Mana is right, Sophia. You need to stay here," he said. "But remember that you'll never be alone. You've got Rhian here if you ever need her."

Sophia cried even harder and had to grip the doorknob behind her to remain standing on her spindly legs. "But then you'll be alone," she bawled.

"Hey, as grumpy as Mana here can be, he's still company," he chuckled. Mana gave out a huff of annoyance. "Plus, if I'm ever alone I'll just think of you and Rhian. I'll always have company."

He walked over to Sophia and enveloped her in a hug. Gitano picked his crying friend up off her shaking feet and carried her back into his dark room and laid her on the bed. He pulled the thin covers up to her chin. "It might be best if you forget me, though," he stated sadly. "If Rhian asks you to do that, then you should."

"I'll never forget you, Gitano," sniffed Sophia. "You're my best friend."

He smiled and patted her on the head. "And you're mine," he replied. Sophia stopped crying and smiled at him. It was the sweet sort of smile that was impossible to forget- the kind of smile he still remembered years after he left the house of the dead golden wheat. Gitano stood up and walked out the door, closing it lightly behind him.

oOo

They arrived in Rhian's room as the clock struck three. "You have decided to go," she said to Mana.

"Yes," he replied shakily. Apparently he looked braver than he felt. "I will no longer be Lord Mana Walker."

Rhian cracked a grin at the boy. "You always had a heart. It could be eclipsed very easily, but it would always return," she stated. "I have a gift for you two."

Both boys looked at her inquisitively. She took a bottle out of her apron pocket and gave it to him. "Drink this potion. I made initially for Gitano should he ever desire to run away when he was older, but I think you both will need it now. Despite all of Adam's threats he can't truly find people at a whim. His senses rely on Innocence and Dark Matter. The potion will block your presence from the clan of Noah as long as you do not call upon them, Mana. They could search the earth for seven thousand years, but they will never find you and Gitano," Rhian said.

"Really?" inquired Mana.

"How come you never gave that to me before?" asked Gitano, outraged that he could have escaped long before then.

"You weren't ready then," stated Rhian. She gave Gitano a pat on the head. "Mana has no idea how to live on the streets. You'll have to teach him everything you know because I cannot help you two from now onwards."

He nodded and gave her his best grin. "Mana will be a regular street rat in no time," he declared.

They both drank from the bottle. Gitano could feel a slight tingling sensation, but it disappeared soon after. "I feel… strange," said Mana.

"Your head must feel light after that," responded Rhian. "You'll get to know what it's like to have your own thoughts. Maybe it will change your opinion on the human race."

Mana glared at her and scoffed, but this only caused Rhian to laugh. Although Mana was nice to his youngest brother, he doubted the boy would be capable of such kindness to others, especially strangers. That might be better in the long run, he thought. At least he wouldn't have to go looking for him up chimneys or down dark alleyways. Being too trusting was a weakness the outside world shamelessly exploited.

"You better go now," said Rhian. She handed them coats to put on over Gitano's raggedy clothing. "I'm sure Lady Arienne and the others will be arriving at any moment. Go!"

Mana wrapped a muffler around his neck while Gitano picked up his bag. "Make sure Sophia doesn't get too lonely," he told the old magician. She smiled at him.

He heard a hoofbeats on the front driveway and shot a look at Mana. The boy picked up his bag and they bolted for the back door. "Don't look back!" hissed Rhian.

Gitano crept around the side of the house, Mana following close behind. He knew that the closest property line was unfortunately in the front, so they'd have to wait for the adults to go inside before making a run for it. He'd have to trust that Mana would follow him wherever he went after that.

He heard Lady Arienne laughing as she stepped out of the coach. The front door opened. "Lady Arienne!" cried Rhian. Gitano was impressed. He'd never heard her sound like the average crying person in a disaster. "Come quickly! There has been an accident!"

Lady Arienne's laughter stopped and he heard her heels move hurriedly up the front stone steps into the house.

"I've got to see this," drawled Lord Tykki's voice. "Anything that can upset that old hag must be good."

Lady Arienne's voice screamed out into the night. "MY RORY! MY DARLING RORY!" she shrieked.

"This sounds bad," stated Lord Camelot. "We better go inside and see what happened. Perhaps you should call the Earl, Tykki. If there's been some sort of accident he may want to know about it, especially if it concerns his favorite Noah family. Though I don't know how those boys could beat Road in popularity."

"Maybe you should check on Road then," said an annoyed Lord Tykki. "She could have been involved in the accident."

He heard Lord Camelot's footsteps running up the front stairs. That left only Lord Tykki.

"HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED TO MY SWEET LITTLE BOY? RORY! RORY!" Lady Arienne screeched.

"This is sounding bad," remarked Lord Tykki. His feet moved slowly up the front stairs and into the manor.

As soon as the door slammed Gitano looked out into the front yard. The coachman was driving the carriage into the back yard on the path on the other side of the house. He motioned to Mana and they ran out from their hiding space past the dead golden wheat onto the main road. They ran for cover in the fields on the opposite side. Not once did they look back.

**Alright, that was longer than I predicted. I got really into Rhian's story considering at what was hinted in Chapter 213 about Neah somehow being a rift from the Holy War. Please Review!  
**


	5. Chapter 5: Zueignung

**I love weekends. Not just because they are weekends, but I have time to write. :) Anyhow, onto a new arc of the story! I'll put a little recap whenever the arc of the story has changed, for I feel that will be helpful, especially if this ends up being longer than my notes are anticipating at the moment (it happens XD). **

**I must also apologize for not thanking my lovely reviewers in the last chapter! Thank you to April Marciano, Badee Badaa Doo, TheParidoxicalOtaku, and Alice Nyte! I would also like to thank all four of them again for adding this to their favorite stories along with KHFFROKSMISOKS XD. On with the chapter!**

**Discalaimer: You know the spiel by now. I don't own it.**

**Recap: After the disappearance of his youngest brother, Mana Walker has left his childhood home with the child servant Gitano to keep the clan of Noah from discovering the true nature of the disaster in the basement. Now completely on their own, Mana must learn from Gitano how to survive in the harsh reality of the outside world.**

**Part Five: Zueignung**

"_Once I yearned for freedom's pleasure, held on high the wine-filled measure, thou didst bless the crimson wine, thanks be thine!_"

Richard Strauss

They did not stop running until daybreak. Finally too weary to keep going they sat down in a clearing in a forest. Gitano looked at the trees surrounding them. From looking at the moss he could tell they were headed north. That seemed to be the right direction to go from what his memory told him. Walker Manor lay to the south of London, so north would be about as far away as they could get. He'd love to get out of the country if at all possible, but he'd have to talk with Mana about that first.

Speaking of the other boy he sat on the ground panting like he'd run some great race. Sure they had run all night, but that was out of fear. Mana had never been one for physical exercise. It was a miracle that the boy had made it this far. Then again, thought Gitano, there was a chance that he was now out of shape having lived inside a fancy house for the last two years. Mana looked up at him with two very round golden eyes like a puppy asking to be fed.

"How far-" began his travel companion.

"Don't even ask," huffed Gitano. He blew his messy auburn hair out of his eyes. If there was any question that he hated most in the world then it had to be about location. It wasn't like he had some sort of meter stick in his mind ticking off the kilometers. "I'm sure it's not nearly far enough by the standards of running away."

"But we ran all night!" Mana protested.

"Look, just because Rhian gave us a potion so your _family_ can't find us doesn't mean that other people can't," snapped Gitano. Mana appeared to be a bit taken aback. He probably had not expected the normally sarcastic and quiet servant boy to snap out at him. "You've got to keep things in perspective. Other people could be looking for us. It probably won't take Lord Adam a long time to figure out that he can't track us. They'll most likely hire other people to look for us. Plus this clearing we're in. We don't know if someone owns this land or not. If some rich landowner bastard found us here without his permission we could end up in jail or even dead."

Mana stared at Gitano like he was seeing the servant boy in a new light. Gitano just felt good that he finally had a chance to yell at someone without the fear of being reprimanded. "So what do we do then?" Mana inquired.

"Well, we've got to rest, but we also must keep an eye open for any trouble. Since there are two of us, one of us can sleep for two hour and the other can keep watch," said Gitano. He watched as Mana worked this out in his mind. The elder Walker brother had always been gifted in academics. It didn't take him long to agree to his suggestion with a curt nod.

"I'll take first watch this time," stated Gitano, "but don't expect to be so lucky the next time."

Mana sighed his thanks and leaned against the tree trunk behind him. Gitano was just about to open his mouth to suggest not sleeping against the tree, but he stopped mid-breath. God, he thought, he was being way too nice. Mana would never survive in the real world if he kept doing this. He looked at the bags at his feet and suddenly a brilliant but terrible idea popped into his head. Gitano took Mana's bag and threw it as hard as he could towards his dozing companion. Mana snapped his eyes open as all breath escaped his lungs. He looked at the bag sitting in his lap and then proceeded to glare at his auburn-haired companion. Gitano looked away to keep himself from laughing. This was going to be fun.

"Believe me, you don't want to sleep propped up against a tree if you don't have to," said Gitano. "Use the bag as a pillow."

"Alright," Mana replied, apparently too tired to argue. The raven-haired boy laid his head down on the bag and immediately fell asleep.

Gitano leaned against the tree that Mana had previously used as a pillow and thought. If they rested there for about six hours then they should be able to continue on to London. They should reach the city in the middle of the night as long as nothing happened along the way. The chance of nothing happening, however, was about zero percent since he was travelling with the third weirdest kid on the face of the planet (Neah and Road taking first and second place respectively).

They would have to find work once they reached London since he had only packed enough food for a week. He wanted to be out of the city by the time the nobles arrived for the winter season. The Camelots were sure to be among the aristocrats staying in the city at that time, and Gitano did not want to risk the chance of running into them. Rhian's potion would protect them from any of the clan of Noah _looking_ for them. He didn't know what that would mean if they should happen to run into the Camelots, nor did he want to find out.

Now he would have to figure out how to tell Mana later that he would actually have to work for the first time in his life. Gitano could already feel the headache that this conversation would cause. He decided to think about that part later, instead watching the red summer sun rise over the trees and fade to a more pleasant yellow. After two hours he woke a very groggy and grumpy Mana and took his turn at sleeping.

oOo

They were very _very_ lucky. Rhian's potion must have worked better than he thought because not once did they run into another person. They saw plenty of animals and fronts of houses, but not a hide or hair of any member of the clan of Noah. Gitano breathed out a silent sigh of relief as they reached the outskirts of London very late in the night.

Mana was all but dragging himself along behind him. Several times the boy had asked to stop and rest, but Gitano kept reminding the brat that they were _running_ away and not taking a pleasant stroll away from Walker Manor. Every time Mana would hang his head in defeat and mutter darkly under his breath.

The streets were empty, letting Gitano know for the first time in a couple years that the day of the week was Sunday. Any other day there would have been drunken men staggering home at this time, but drunks would tone things down for Sunday. Anyone could tell you that one of the worst feelings in the world was going to church with a hangover. This was possibly the best situation that they could have arrived in since now he would not be forced to give Mana a lesson on how to deal with belligerent drunks or pickpockets.

Gitano found a suitable looking doorstep and sat down. Mana looked at him from the street. "Aren't you going to sit down?" he asked the raven-haired boy.

"What are you doing?" inquired Mana in return.

"Going to bed," he replied. "What else would I be doing at this time of night?"

"You can't sleep there! That's someone's house!" hissed Mana. He looked up and down the street anxiously. "We can't just sleep there."

"We can and we are," Gitano responded. "Were you expecting to stay in an inn? I don't have any money, and I doubt that you have ever needed to carry any with you before now. Besides we must save any money we have so that we can keep moving."

Mana sat down on the doorstep with a huff. "This is ridiculous," he grumbled.

"Welcome to London," said Gitano. He laid his bag on the stoop and laid down on top of it. "Now we must be gone before the owner wakes up, so we're leaving in four hours. You get the first watch this time." He fell asleep soon after to the constant mutterings of a very pissed Mana Walker.

oOo

"You've got to be kidding me," groaned Mana. As predicted the boy was not pleased to hear that they'd be working on the streets.

"It's the only way we will be able to move on from here. Personally I don't want to be waiting here to roll out the welcome mat for the Camelots or any of your other family members, so we're going to work," stated Gitano. "Since nothing is open today, I thought it would be a good time to practice manners."

"I have manners unlike you," spat Mana. He crossed his arms and looked away.

"Alright, Mr. _Civilized_, but I mean manners on a streetwise basis. No one is going to ask you to pass the salt out here," he said. Mana rolled his eyes. "First off, you can't always be giving people that attitude if you're asking for work. They'll send you away or beat you."

"Beat me?" inquired the raven-haired boy. His eyes were wide like saucers now.

It appeared as if Gitano finally knew how to get the brat's attention. "Yes, or they might even call the constable," he continued, doing his best to suppress a wicked grin. This was going to be fun. "Now you should be nice to the people who can employ you, but if people are nagging you about buying their wares or giving them food then just ignore them. And if someone asks you to come back to their place then run away as fast as possible or you might find yourself up someone's chimney with needles in your feet."

"They stick needles in your feet?" questioned Mana incredulously.

"How else are they going to persuade anyone to climb up a dirty, cold, tight chimney?" asked Gitano. "Keep your food hidden too, and don't eat it all in one sitting. We have only got enough for a week and after that we may have to start begging."

"Begging?" shouted Mana, clearly outraged. "That's preposterous! I will not bend down to such a level, Gitano!"

"You will if you must," he mumbled. He looked up the street at a gang of little kids wandering aimlessly while looking at fat hams and fresh bread in the store windows, hunger plainly seen on their faces. "You can't go hungry all the time."

Mana scowled and scuffed his shoes on the pavement. "What can we do for work, though?" inquired the raven-haired boy.

"We don't want anything too permanent like a factory job. Kids lose fingers doing that kind of work anyways," he said. "We can see if anyone needs an errand boy. That's generally a one day type of thing. Catching rats is also an option, but we'll have to be careful about who's house we're working inside."

"That's disgusting!" cried out Mana. "I'm not touching rats."

"Suit yourself," replied Gitano. "The cooks will feed you if you catch enough rats. That's good money and good food. If all else fails then we'll have to do street entertainment."

"Street entertainment?" questioned Mana. Gitano was beginning to wonder what kind of books the brat read because he was beginning to believe that he did not know anything about real life.

"You know, playing an instrument or tumbling or juggling or doing magic tricks-"

"I must have died and gone to hell," moaned Mana, turning his golden eyes up the smoggy London skies.

"Don't go wishing that on yourself," he responded. "Now let's see how good you are at tumbling."

oOo

They were doing pretty well for the first week. Despite the lack of physical exercise for the last eight years, Mana Walker was pretty good at tumbling. After a few days of instruction the golden-eyed boy was better than most of the other children on the streets. This meant more money, but it also meant more attention.

Gitano didn't want the constables to become too interested in them. He was sure that one of Mana's relatives would send fliers up to London any day now with the brat's face all over them. They would have to move onto another city like Birmingham or Liverpool if they didn't have enough money for a boat soon.

He had spoken with Mana about future plans, and the brat had surprisingly agreed with the idea of leaving Great Britain. Maybe the kid was finally becoming curious about the world outside the clan of Noah. It was only his mutterings about how much he hated humans and wishing that Rory would come back already and awaken so that the Innocence in his arm would be destroyed that kept Gitano from being certain. He himself, however, was also very moody at the end of the day whether he had been tumbling with Mana or working some other odd job.

It was at the end of one such day that a man approached them. Gitano didn't see him until he wiped the steady afternoon drizzle out of his eyes. He stepped back in shock as he saw two blue eyes staring into his brown ones. "That was very good!" exclaimed the man very enthusiastically.

Gitano was pretty certain the man must be crazy. It could have been the fact that he had almost slipped and broken is skull open on the wet cobblestone or the man's child-like grin. He was also dressed very oddly. He wore a saffron velvet evening jacket over a white shirt with lace cuffs and large cravat. Gitano would not have been surprised if the man had made it from some lady's petticoat that he found in the garbage. The overly-large pants were even stranger, being made from some sort of red and purple striped fabric. A pair of rainbow suspenders held up the baggy pants to complete the strange attire.

"Um… thanks?" said Mana, rubbing the back of his head. He was also carefully scrutinizing the man with his golden eyes.

"Have you boys ever thought of joining a circus?" asked the man.

Circus people, thought Gitano. It figured. At least the man wasn't completely off his rocker. "Not really," he replied truthfully.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, then stop on over at Ziegler's," stated the man. He procured a business card from his front pocket. "I'm sure the boss would love to have some up-and-coming tumblers like you two. Take care now." The man walked off through the crowded street.

Gitano looked at the card that Mana now held. "Ziegler's Circus," he read. "Shows every day at 14:00 and 18:00."

"What a strange man," muttered Mana, but he was also examining the card. He turned the card over to its back side. "'Don't miss the last performance before Ziegler's moves onto the continent.'"

So the circus was touring in Europe. Gitano continued to read the card. From the looks of it Ziegler's would not be back in England for another two years. "What do you think?" he inquired.

"Joining a circus? Mother would die of a heart attack," replied Mana. He blew a lose wet strand of black hair out of his face. It fell back into his face as the rain began to fall harder.

"It's about 17:00 right now," said Gitano, looking up at the clock tower (he still had no idea why people insisted on calling it Big Ben).

"Let's go," stated Mana. "It'll be a good way to get out of the rain at least."

He heard the bells begin to ring as they ran off through the pouring rain to Zieglers.

oOo

He had to admit that he was impressed. Gitano had never been to a circus himself, so all he had known beforehand was from the things Rhian had mentioned or from the stories that Road would tell the brats when she came back from the winter season. They found the manager of the circus inside the big top.

"Zat Pierrot," he sighed, running a hand through his thinning gray hair. Mr. Ziegler was a short beefy man with a thick mustache and an even thicker German accent. "He vould tell anyone to join ze circus."

Mana and he stood dripping and shivering before the manager. Gitano doubted that this would help their case. "Mana is a really good tumbler," he said. "He's a natural."

"So ist everyone else who comes looking for a job," replied Mr. Ziegler. "I'm afraid zat I already have enough tumblers, boys. Vy don't you try another circus."

"We could do odd jobs," suggested Mana. "That way if you don't have enough tumblers in the future then we'd be there."

"I don't really need two errand boys," stated Mr. Ziegler. "I hate to turn you two avay-"

A very tall and hairy woman (or it could have been a man) ran into the tent. "Mr. Ziegler!" she (or he) called. "I don't think Balthasar will be going on today."

"Vat?" groaned the manager. "Not only ist the dummkopf incompetent at best, but now he can't perform? Vat ist the matter vith him?"

"Ormand thinks it might be the fever. What would you like us to do with him?" she (or he) inquired.

"I can't have all my performers getting ze fever. Tell him to go see a doctor. Until zen he ist not to return," responded Mr. Ziegler. The hairy woman (or man) left the tent. Mr. Ziegler began to pace around in circles. "Now I don't have a magician…"

"Mr. Ziegler," said Mana. The manager gave him a very bitter look.

"I zought you two vould have left by now," spat the very frustrated manager.

"I was going to say that my friend can do magic," grumbled Mana.

Mr. Ziegler turned to face Gitano. "You do magic?" he asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Let me see zen," stated the manager.

Gitano gave it some thought, for he doubted that potion making would be very exciting. After a moment he decided on making birds appear out of his hands. That seemed like a very circus-like trick. He put his hands together like he would if he were begging or praying and then pulled them apart. Gitano was very surprised when twenty birds appeared out of his hands. He had never tried that spell before, but he was apparently better than he thought.

Mr. Ziegler gave out a barking laugh. "I have no idea how you did zat, but zat vas incredible!" he exclaimed. "So much besser zan Balthasar. Matilda! Jacqueline! Get zis boy some dry clothes. See vat we have for a little boy. Ve're going to make him a magician."

The woman (or man) was back with another woman who wore nothing but a sparkling leotard. "This little thing?" asked the practically naked woman.

"He made all zese birds appear. I don't see vy not," stated the manager. "You zere- vat's your name?"

"It's Mana," responded the golden-eyed boy.

"Get zese birds out of here," ordered Mr. Ziegler. "Zen go tell Trevor to clean out Balthasar's trailer. If zat man has ze fever, zen I doubt ve'll ever see him again."

"So I'm the errand boy now?" asked Mana.

"Yes," replied the manager. Mana turned on his heels and began shooing the birds.

The two women took Gitano to the dressing room of the tent and handed him a towel. He gladly accepted it and dried himself off. The hairy woman (she really was a woman apparently), Matilda, left for a little while to rifle through a trunk for a child-sized costume. The other woman, Jacqueline, took a brush and began to go through his hair.

He winced as she hit every knot. "You really should invest in a comb, kid," she said. "My horses take better care of their hair than you do." When she finished she took a black ribbon that was tied around her wrist and tied a bow around his hair. "There you go! Doesn't it look nicer now? You wouldn't be too bad looking if you took care of yourself."

Gitano looked at himself in the mirror. His short auburn pony tail fell just below his shoulders. God, if he kept this up he'd start looking like Mana. He wasn't sure he wanted that.

Matilda returned with a pair of black pants, a black cummerbund, and a white ruffled shirt. He ruffled his nose in disgust. Only rich brats like Mana and Neah wore ruffles. "Don't complain, kid," stated Matilda. "Magicians where fancy stuff. You're lucky that I even found stuff close to your size. Now change."

He did as he was told. Gitano was glad there was no lace on the shirt, otherwise he'd start looking like Lord Camelot. That would be even worse than looking like Mana or Neah. He felt stifled in the fancy clothes, but at least they fit.

"Now you're starting to look like a magician," declared Jacqueline, nodding in approval. "Where's the hat."

"I couldn't find one that would fit," replied Matilda. "The clowns are still looking."

The man from earlier ran into the tent. Gitano would not have recognized him if he had not still been wearing the goofy coat and striped pants. "We've only got about five minutes," he gasped between breaths. "The only child-sized hats we have a bowler hats with flowers springing out of them."

"That won't do at all," said Jacqueline through pursed lips.

"I do have this mask from when I was in the theater business," stated the man. It was a white half face mask with two holes for eyes. A red cross that ran across the entire mask was the only decoration.

"That's good enough," replied Matilda, snatching the mask from his hands. She put it on his face. "It fits him, too. Thanks, Pierrot."

"Anytime," responded the clown with a large graceful bow. "Break a leg out there, kid."

"Ist he ready?" asked Ziegler. It appeared that he like the clown Pierrot had been running all over the circus grounds. Mana was close behind him.

"Yes, Mr. Ziegler," said Jacqueline. "What do you think?"

"Zat ist very good," stated the manager, giving a nod of approval. "Let's go boy."

Gitano followed Mr. Ziegler and Mana through a narrow passage to the wings of the big top. Mana and he watched a group of men tumbling and building an inverted human pyramid. He now understood why Mr. Ziegler had not wanted more tumblers. The ring master came to greet them.

"What should I introduce him as?" asked the ring master.

"Vat ist your name, boy?" inquired the manager.

"Gitano," he replied. The two men wrinkled their noses.

"I don't like it," said the ring master.

"Probably because it sounds like git," muttered Mana. Gitano had to refrain himself from hitting Mana across the face.

"It needs to be somezing more bold," mused Mr. Ziegler. The audience applauded as the tumblers finished their act. The manager looked at the mask on his face. "Call him Cross, ze Magnificent Magician Cross. It vill give him more of a sense of mystery."

"Right," stated the ring master. He walked out of the wing as the tumblers exited the ring.

Gitano thought about this new name. Sure, it was cheesy because of the mask, but at least Mana wouldn't be able to come up with any dumb nicknames like 'Git.' He actually kind of liked it.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls!" cried out the ring master. "I would now like to introduce a boy of many mysteries. Watch as he amazes you with astonishing feats of magic. I now introduce the Magnificent Magician Cross!"

He walked out of the wing into the bright lights and the light applause of a hundred people he could not see. It was much easier than he expected to wow them with appearing birds, dancing orbs of light, and bursts of small fireworks. By the end of his act the audience was whistling and thundering with applause. He took a bow and walked off into the other wing where a beaming Mr. Ziegler and a grinning Mana were waiting.

The next day Mana and the Magnificent Magician Cross left London with Ziegler's Circus on a boat bound for France.

**Alright, so now you all know why I don't own Gitano. XD Props to my account partner the Polka-Dotted Sock and Badee Badaa Doo for guessing that beforehand. ;)**

**Anyhow so for names in this chapter: I chose Ziegler randomly, but I'm pretty sure the guy in Moulin Rough has the same name. I didn't do that on purpose and they are vastly different in character. Pierrot is the name of a character from Commedia dell'Arte that is often thought of as the first white-faced clown. Balthasar, Ormand, Matilda, and Jacqueline are names that I thought had a circus feel to them. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Tanzlied des Pierrots

**Wow, the song for this chapter took forever to find. It's really hard to find good art songs that are not love songs (seriously, there's no reason to use love songs when talking about kids XD). Anyhow, I happened upon this song after listening to a lovely recording by Elizabeth Schwarzkopf of another aria from the same opera, _Die tote Stadt_. I'd recommend it if you're a classical music nut like I am. ;) But seriously, the title just happened to be a coincidence considering the clown's name. XD Thanks to NicaXiaoyu for the favorite!**

**Disclaimer: Maybe someday I'll finally have a copyright for something… but it will never be D. Gray-man.**

**Part Six: Tanzlied des Pierrots**

"_Intoxication and misery, illusion and happiness: Ah, this is a clown's destiny_."

Erich Wolfgang Korngold

It was almost like they had switched places. Back at Walker Manor it had been the brat who was showered in praises for his academic skills, good looks, and manners (towards adults). The people at the circus, however only wanted to talk to the Magnificent Magician Cross. He was almost starting to forget that people had once called him Gitano. It really didn't matter to him what they wanted to call him, so by the end of two years time he had ceased to be Gitano.

Mana, curiously enough, seemed to be fine with just being ordinary errand boy Mana Walker. Perhaps it was because he could be his true self. When Mana wanted to be rude, then he was rude (though if he went too far then Matilda would surely go looking for him). He didn't have to pay respects to his elders, he didn't have to take a bath, he didn't have to tie his hair back with ribbon, and he didn't have to live up to whatever expectations the clan of Noah had once held for him. It was as if he had evolved in some ways. Mana still had his mannerisms and personality, but it was like he had once been a dog on a leash that now was experiencing true freedom for the first time.

Cross, as he was now called (people couldn't go around all day saying 'the Magnificent Magician Cross), noticed this mostly in Mana's interactions with the clown Pierrot. Pierrot was very fond of children, and Cross would have found it creepy if the clown did not have a wife and young son of his own. Lowell was only two years old when they joined the circus, and the fair-haired child was much too young to start clowning yet. He spent most of the time playing with the trained dogs or following his mother Arabella around the circus grounds. Pierrot, having no partner for his act, found it fit to teach Mana how to juggle.

He was sitting outside enjoying the lovely spring weather of the southern half of the Italian peninsula. Mana tried to appear as busy as possible upon seeing Pierrot approach him with a crate. The golden-eyed boy turned his attention back to securing one of the posts holding up a small tent for about the third time in ten minutes.

"I'm sure you don't want to be the errand boy forever," said the clown as he set down the small crate full of multi-colored balls, scarves, and pins. "Plus you're talented. It would be a waste to let you hide in the shadows all the time."

"Really, I'm fine with the shadows," replied Mana as he finished nailing in a pin on one of the smaller tents. Cross could not have agreed more, but he held back any comments. He wasn't sure what people at the circus would think if they saw any of Mana's 'magic powers.' They could very well get thrown out.

"At any rate, it's a good way to pass the time," stated Pierrot, throwing a couple pins into the air. The clown juggled as the two boys watched. Cross was pretty impressed at Pierrot's coordination, for the clown could not only juggle in front, but he could throw the pins behind him and still catch them. He had not known that there were different forms of juggling.

Suddenly Pierrot threw one of the pins at Mana. The golden-eyed boy caught it before it hit his head. "You have pretty good reflexes," said the clown. "Why not give it a try?"

Mana huffed, but he picked up three of the multi-colored balls from the crate. Pierrot smiled as he exchanged his pins for juggling balls as well. "How do you start that whole thing?" asked Mana. He looked at the two balls he held in one hand and the third one in the other as if they would jump out of his palms and begin dancing at any moment.

"First off, you should hold two balls in your right hand. It will make things easier in the long run," instructed Pierrot. He moved to stand beside Mana. "You'll throw one of the balls from your right hand up into the air first. When it's centered in front of you then it's time to throw the one in your left hand."

"So I'm making a triangle essentially," stated Mana.

Pierrot grinned at the boy. "Yes, it's like making a triangle," said the clown.

oOo

Whenever Cross went looking for the golden-eyed boy after that he would always find him practicing. Mana would blush slightly upon seeing him and set down whatever objects he was using to practice.

Each time the conversation would begin in the same way. "Practicing again?" he would ask.

To this Mana gave the customary response of, "Yeah. So what?"

"I thought you didn't care," he would reply.

"Shut up, Git," the golden-eyed boy would say with a glare. With that he would pick up his juggling balls or pins or scarves and walk away from Cross. The young magician would shrug and pull out whatever magic book he happened to be reading at the moment.

After several weeks of this Mana finally had the basics of juggling down like a pro. Cross couldn't help being proud of the brat. He had helped raised him and trained him in the ways of normal life. To see the former member of the clan of Noah blending in with human society so easily was almost inspiring. When Mana showed the clown Pierrot his newly developed skills, the clown clapped him on the back and wore the largest grin Cross had ever seen on anyone's face. Mana actually smiled back at the man.

It was then that Cross realized two important things about his former charge. The first was that Mana Walker was having _fun_ living in this crazy place that people called a circus. Mana Walker was not one to have fun. He had been the aloof older brother who never smiled and watched everything with a look of scorn on his face. It was abnormal seeing the boy wake up in the morning eagerly running to complete the morning errands so that he could practice new juggling tricks to show to Pierrot. The second thing was that Mana actually _liked_ the clown. After lecturing Cross with his younger brother about how weak humans were and that someday all of them would die, the brat was becoming attached to a clown of all people. If Lady Arienne had not died of a heart attack already, she surely would upon hearing that her eldest child was growing to like humans.

Cross smirked to himself as he watched Pierrot juggling with his former charge. He was beginning to like this new Mana. The clown's son walked over to the two jugglers, his bright blue eyes watching the colorful juggling balls fly through the air. Mana stopped juggling and handed one of his balls to Lowell. The little boy began throwing the ball between his two hands in an attempt to mimic his father. Mana patted the boy on the head with a fond smile on his face, the kind of smile he used to reserve only for Rory.

Pierrot stopped juggling and picked up Lowell, spinning the toddler through the air. "That's the spirit, Lowell!" he exclaimed. "Someday I'm going to teach you how to juggle just like Mana!"

Lowell giggled as his father continued to spin him through the air.

oOo

That had been a year ago. It was unfair for a small three year old boy to die so young. Lowell had come down with consumption as Ziegler's Circus toured the Austrian countryside, and a week later the little boy was dead. Pierrot, of course, was distraught, but not as much as Arabella. According to Jacqueline (the trick rider was a shameless gossip) the clown's wife had had a difficult time conceiving even one child. The likelihood that she would ever give birth to another was practically zero.

A priest in a nearby town was kind enough to give Pierrot and Arabella a place to bury the child. The one negative aspect of being a circus performer was that it didn't generate a large income. Lowell would have been dumped in a common grave had it not been for the benevolence of the father. The entire circus showed up for the funeral, and Mr. Ziegler even gave a touching speech about the little boy. Afterwards they drifted away from the cemetery and back to the circus.

Mana had been very quiet the entire trek back to the circus. There were tear tracks clearly visible on his pale cheeks. Perhaps the once cold-hearted Walker boy was actually truly saddened by the loss of such a young life. Cross knew how fond Mana was of Pierrot, but he had not imagined the brat to be so moved by Mr. Ziegler's speech.

"Are you alright?" he asked after a while. They had fallen pretty far behind the other mourners walking back to the circus grounds. Mana looked up at him surprised. "What? It's been a pretty tough last couple days for everyone."

There was no way that he would _ever_ let Mana know that he might actually care about his wellbeing. _Ever_.

"I'm fine," sniffed the golden-eyed boy while focusing his gaze once again on the path before them. "I've just never been to a funeral before. Are they always like that, Gitano?"

He wasn't an expert, but Cross had seen several funeral processions before he ended up stuck at Walker Manor. He'd also been to a funeral for an old lady. Cross had fallen asleep on her doorstep one cold winter afternoon, and she had let him inside later that evening. The lady had even fed him. The next morning, however, she'd taken ill and by nightfall she was dead. The townsfolk thought that he might be her grandson, so they'd bought him some black clothes and dragged him along to the funeral. She only had a ring to her name, which they gave to him. Cross had tried to refuse, but they said he was her only family. He had not wanted to let them know the true circumstance, so he'd take the ring along, thinking he'd just pawn it off later. Cross still wore it on a chain around his neck.

"Yeah, pretty much," he replied. He wasn't a great comforter (he'd tried many times before with Sophia, but most of his attempts had made things worse), but he'd have to give it a try. "I'm sure that Lowell wouldn't want you to cry like this."

"I'm not crying!" snapped Mana, turning to him with tear-filled eyes.

"Sure you're not," Cross said. "It's okay to be sad, but we've got to keep living. Pierrot and Arabella will need you more now than ever. You're like a second son to them."

Mana looked at him with big golden eyes. It was the same kind of look that had graced Rory's face all too often, a look of childhood innocence. Cross had never thought that the youngest Walker child resembled Mana in any way, but now he could see how they were related. "I suppose I should go see them whenever we get back," stated Mana.

"Yeah, that would be a good thing to do," responded Cross. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the storm clouds gathering in the sky.

He was surprised when Mana spoke again. "Could you come with me?" inquired the golden-eyed boy.

"Fine," grumbled Cross. Mana must have figured out that he _might _care. Now the damn brat would always take advantage of this weak point. It seemed to Cross as if he'd never truly be free of those Walker brats.

oOo

As they approached Pierrot's trailer they heard Arabella talking to someone. Cross could tell that it was not another member of the circus, so he motioned for Mana to follow him behind the trailer. They'd just have to wait for whoever the visitor was to leave, so Cross planned to look for something that Mana could juggle in the back.

One of the windows on the other side of the trailer was open, so it was even easier for him to hear what was being said inside. He had been trying to give up his habit of eavesdropping (there was honestly nothing better to do when he had had to serve dinner for Lady Arienne and her guests), but when adults made it this easy it was hard to resist.

"What y-you are s-s-saying is-" stammered Arabella.

"Yes, I can return your son to you," replied a rough sounding man's voice.

Cross was now very curious. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn't remember for the life of him who it was. Mana picked up some medium sized twigs to juggle, but he motioned for the brat to put them down quietly. That voice seemed to strike some sort of chord in him, a chord that told him that they needed to run away.

Cross, unfortunately, did not listen to that voice and crept closer to the trailer. There was an over turned crate just under the window, conveniently big enough for two boys to stand upon it. He stood on it and stole a glance into the trailer. Arabella was sitting in a rocking chair holding one of Lowell's old shirts. Her swollen red eyes were filled with hope as she looked at the stranger. The stranger was tall and very fat. His nose and ears came to sharp points and a toothy grin was plastered across his face, making Cross think about all the descriptions of goblins he'd ever heard. A lit candle on a nearby table cast a glare on the man's glasses so that he couldn't see the man's eyes. He wore a tan coat over his bulky frame and the entire ensemble was finished off with a long beaver fur top hat. Cross could not recall seeing the man before. He felt Mana stand up silently on the crate beside him.

"T-thank you!" cried Arabella, clasping the man's hand in her own. Tears fell down her pretty tan face. "When do I get to see him?"

"He's right here," stated the man, gesturing to the other side of the room.

Cross was pretty sure he knew Lowell pretty well. The little boy had his father's light brown curly hair and blue eyes, but he was tan just like his mother. The man had gestured to what looked like a metallic skeleton, and Cross knew that that thing could not be Lowell. What kind of game was this man playing at?

"All you have to do, Arabella, is call out your little boy's name. He'll hear you and come running to his dear mama," continued the man.

"Lowell!" called out Arabella. Cross was stunned to see the metallic skeleton move its head.

"M-mama?" asked a young boy's voice. He almost fell off the crate. That _had_ been Lowell's voice. Cross could not understand it. He'd been in the cemetery and saw the tiny pine casket get lowered into the ground with Lowell's body inside.

"Lowell! Come to Mama, honey!" cried out Arabella. Her face was filled with the utmost joy.

"Don't mama!" shouted the skeleton. It took a hesitant step forward as if it were against its will.

"Be a good boy, Lowell, and hug your mama," said the man. An even larger and more sinister grin spread across his face.

"No!" shrieked the skeleton, but it moved steadily forward. "Mama! Run away!"

Cross was very confused by this point. The skeleton continued walking towards the smiling Arabella even though it screamed to run away from it. It just seemed like one giant contradiction. He looked over at Mana and saw that the golden-eyed boy was just as confused as he was.

The skeleton now stood in front of Arabella and wrapped her in an embrace. Arabella rocked back and forth crying with the skeleton in her arms.

"Alright, now I order you to kill this woman, akuma," declared the man.

"What?" asked Arabella, looking up at the man. It was too late, though, for the skeleton grabbed her slender neck in a tight choke hold. She coughed and tried to scream, but she couldn't get any noise out of her throat.

"I'm sorry, Mama," sobbed the skeleton as it continued to strangle Arabella.

Cross wanted to do something. He wanted to run and holler for help, but for some reason he couldn't move from the spot he where he stood. Mana didn't even look away from the scene, his mouth hanging open in horror. Arabella gave one last shuddering gasp and then fell limp to the floor. The man walked over to where she lay and checked her pulse.

"She's dead now," he proclaimed to the skeleton. The skeleton stood there crying invisible tears. "Now in you get."

"I-I don't want to!" gasped the skeleton through dry sobs, but its limbs began moving against its will once more.

Cross wanted to faint as he watched the skeleton stick one throat down the deceased woman's throat and then the other. The stranger sang some sort of upbeat tune the entire time as he watched the skeleton finish sliding into Arabella's body. Mana was gripping the outside of the trailer tightly, his hands turning even paler than they usually were. Arabella stood up and brushed her long dark brown hair out of her face. Cross saw a pentacle now sat in the middle of her forehead.

"Now you are complete, my akuma," sighed the stranger. He patted it on the shoulder and handed it a scarf that Arabella had often used to tie her hair back. "Cover up the mark before your husband gets home. We wouldn't want him discovering that something's wrong too soon. Wait until it gets dark before starting on your duties, so that no one can link the disappearances to you. I'm expecting great things from you. Don't stop until the entire circus is dead. You might even become a level two if all goes well."

He took up a pink umbrella that sat by the door. "Let's go, Lero," he said to it. "We've got a lot of calls to make."

"Yes, Lord Millennium!" exclaimed the umbrella. Cross pushed Mana up close to the trailer as the fat stranger rose up in the air with the umbrella. They sat there for several minutes after he disappeared over the hills. When they were sure the cost was clear they ran far away from the trailer towards the elephant pen.

"What the hell was that?" he asked no one in particular. The elephants looked at the boys but then went back to eating hay and swatting away flies with their tails.

Mana had lost his breakfast as soon as they reached the tent. He remained completely still on his hands and knees as his hair dangled dangerously close to the remnants of his food. "I can't believe it," he muttered, not even turning his golden eyes up to Cross.

"Can't believe what?" he inquired. "Do you know what that 'akuma' thing was?"

Mana sat back on his heels and stared up at him. His eyes looked completely lost. "Don't you remember hearing us talk about akuma at dinner?" questioned Mana.

Cross suddenly remembered Lord Adam talking at the last family dinner about akuma and the Innocence. "Wait, that akuma thing was one of Lord Adam's creations?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Mana. "I didn't know that they wore people's skin, though." He proceeded to vomit again. This time Cross took some pity on him and held the boy's hair out of the way. As soon as Mana had finished he leaned back against one of the posts of the elephant pen.

"So this Lord Millennium fellow-" began Cross.

"He's called the Millennium Earl," said Mana. He flinched as he said the name. "He's sort of the one pulling all the strings for the whole wiping out humanity plan."

"He looks like a psychopath," he commented.

"He probably is one. I've never met him in person before," stated Mana.

"No wonder. Ror- all of you would have had nightmares for weeks after meeting a bloke like that," replied Cross. Now would not have been a good time to bring up Rory. Mana didn't need any more reasons to throw himself into the lion cage than the discovery about akuma.

"Did you feel that he was familiar at all, though, Git?" inquired Mana. He looked up at Cross in way that said he expected the magician to know more than he did.

"I felt like something was off, like as if he couldn't sense us," responded Cross. He thought a bit more about it. "There was something about his voice that was also very familiar…"

"I should have asked somebody more about him when I was at home," mumbled Mana. Apparently the boy was no longer listening. Cross frowned at the brat. If he was going to bother to ask his opinion, then the brat might as well finish listening to him first. "I bet Uncle Adam would have known him. Uncle Adam would always tell us his plans and everything."

That was when everything clicked in his mind. "Mana, I think your uncle does know him, and quite well for that matter," said Cross. "Don't you find it odd that being the head of the whole operation that the Millennium Earl has never shown up for dinner?"

Mana's eyes widened. "I'll admit that that is very strange. Mother was such a staunch supporter of his work," replied Mana.

"Well I think he _was_ there," continued Cross. "He just didn't look like the Millennium Earl."

"What are you getting at?" inquired Mana, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Didn't the Millenium Earl sound a bit like Lord Adam?" questioned Cross. He wasn't going to beat around the bush with this one.

Mana's golden eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. "H-he did a bit," agreed the boy. "So you think-"

"I'm pretty damn certain that the Millennium Earl and Lord Adam are the same person," stated Cross. "He just uses magic or something else to disguise himself in one of his forms- probably when he is the Earl. I have yet to see any living thing that could possibly give birth to an ugly mug like that."

For some reason Cross had expected Mana to gain some sort of momentum from this, but the boy's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head into his chest. Cross quirked an eyebrow and bent down to Mana's level. When he looked into the golden eyes he saw that the boy was crying. Great. Just great.

"Why would Uncle Adam do something like that?" cried Mana. He was shaking now. "He said he was going to create a better world, but he's killing people with those-those monsters!"

Cross summoned a clean handkerchief out of thin air (Jacqueline had used his other one earlier during the funeral- gross) and handed it to Mana. "I'm going to be honest," he said. "Lord Adam is not a nice guy. In fact, he's just plain crazy. That's something you're going to have to accept."

Mana began to cry harder. Cross gave him some time before speaking again.

"Now if you're finished being shocked or wallowing in self-pity over your evil uncle or whatever is going through your mind, then we've got some work to do," he stated.

"What do you mean?" sniffed Mana.

"That akuma is planning on killing everyone here in the circus," replied Cross. "It was given orders, however, not to start until sundown. I don't know how much we can do to stop it, but we've got to warn as many people as we can."

"They'll never believe us," hiccupped Mana, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Who's actually going to believe that Arabella was killed by Lowell's soul attached to a metal skeleton that's parading around in her body?"

The kid had a good point. Cross wasn't sure he'd believe it himself if he hadn't seen it. "We'll have to make something up then," he said. "We could say the lions got out."

"They'd check on the lions," grumbled Mana. Cross decided to boy must have fallen into some sort of depression over the past day. He was back to his more onerous self.

"How about the monkeys? If we let them out, then they wouldn't cause too much damage. The monkeys might make it all the way to town, so we'd have an excuse to look for help there," responded Cross.

Mana stood up and walked over to the magician. "You don't get it, do you?" he hollered. "Akuma don't discriminate depending on circumstances. They have only one instinct and that is to kill. It will do whatever it can to achieve this objective. No matter what roadblocks we throw into its plan it will just blow them up! Only an exorcist can stop them, and even then they can't stop them all the time."

"So we're just sitting ducks?" questioned Cross. He could feel his left eyebrow twitching.

"Pretty much," replied Mana.

"That's not good enough for me," he said, walking away from the elephant pen. "I'm going to do what I can to stop that thing, and that will start with telling Pierrot. Do whatever you want."

He only walked about five meters before Mana was running to catch up with him. "This is mental," muttered Mana. "The sun will set in a couple hours, and we have no idea if the akuma will like it was told to do."

"It will," stated Cross. "It didn't even want to be born in the first place."

oOo

They were lucky in the fact that most of the circus had gone into to town to get a drink. One of the acrobats named Bryan had spoken about how it was a tradition in his homeland to celebrate the life of the dead after the funeral by going out for a drink after the funeral. This meant less potential victims for the akuma. It seemed that only the snake charmer had stayed behind. They decided to ask him about Pierrot.

"I know he didn't go out to town with the others," said Ormand as he continued to scrub out the urn his snake lived in. The little serpent was entertaining itself by wrapping itself around one of the support poles for a smaller tent. "He came back late in the afternoon and said he was going on a walk in the hills. I'm sure he should be back at any moment."

"Thanks, Ormand," replied Cross. They ran towards the edge of the circus closest to the hills. Cross sat down and took out a magic book. He rifled through the pages looking for anything that might help in blocking akuma. He doubted that he'd find anything, though.

"Do you really think that Lowell is still aware of himself?" asked Mana after a long silence. "Mother always talked about akuma like they were some sort of a tool without feeling."

"I've never seen a tool cry," retorted Cross. "Correct me if I'm wrong."

"Do you think we should tell Ormand?" inquired Mana.

"Pierrot should know first," he stated. "Ormand said that he should be back any minute. I think he should be fine for a couple minutes. If you want you can see if he'd like to join us."

"That might be a good idea," said Mana. The boy ran off to go talk to the snake charmer.

Cross looked at the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. The first stars of the evening began to wink at him in a menacing way that made him want to shiver. It was time for the akuma to begin its attack. He spotted the red and purple striped pants and the saffron jacket before he saw Pierrot's face. The clown looked like he was in a severe melancholy, but he was still in one piece.

"Pierrot!" he called out to the clown.

The clown looked up from the path at him and cracked a small grin. "If it isn't young Cross," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"There's something important I've got to talk to you about," began Cross. He really wasn't sure how to go about this. "There's something wrong."

"Wrong?" asked Pierrot.

Before he could continue the sound of gunshots rang out in the distance. Cross looked towards the sound and saw a fire spring up at what would be one of the smaller tents. "Mana," he muttered under his breath. He ran off in the direction where he knew Mana and Ormand should be.

When he reached the path that ran up to the tent he had to duck behind a crate as the akuma continued to shoot. He could hear Ormand cursing under his breath, clearly frightened. He peaked out from behind his hiding spot and saw that Arabella's hand had transformed into some kind of gun. The grotesque weapon was pointed at a pile of barrels beside the tent where Ormand and Mana must have been hiding.

Cross took a risk at calling out to them. "Are you two alright?" he asked over the sound of raining bullets.

"If getting shot at is alright, then yes," shouted Mana in reply. Cross was relieved to hear the boy's voice.

"Try to get away from here and then split up. It can't follow both of you," he stated.

"That's much easier said than done," hollered Mana. "We tried moving earlier but it blocked our escape route."

This was definitely tougher than he imagined it being. "I'm going to try distracting it then," he responded.

"What?" bellowed Ormand. "That's suicidal, Cross!"

"I can disappear," he replied. "It should give you guys enough time to run to a more secure hiding spot."

He really didn't want to do it. Cross wasn't even sure he'd be able to disappear in time. He'd only ever disappeared as a performance trick, and in order to transfer his entire self he would use up a lot of energy. Plus he could only transport himself short distances. In all likelihood he was probably going to die out there, but somebody was going to have to take a risk. He ran out into the path right behind the akuma.

"HEY!" he shouted at it.

"STUPID GIT! GET BACK BEHIND THAT CRATE!" shouted Mana, his head poking out from behind the pile of barrels. The akuma seemed to be confused on which direction it should shoot now.

Cross wanted to smack his head and yell back at the brat, but now was not the time. He began gathering energy around himself. "I'm talking to you, Lowell!" he called. "I know you don't want to do this. Why don't you call it quits?"

The akuma whipped around so that Cross was now facing the barrel of the gun. He saw Ormand run out from behind the barrels and duck down a path. Cross was fairly certain that the snake charmer would not be returning to Ziegler's anytime in the near future. Mana, for once, took his advice and ran down a different path than Ormand.

"Can you hear me Lowell?" he asked the akuma. Cross was almost certain that he saw the glint of tears in the akuma's eyes. Unfortunately the glint was brief and the akuma fired. Cross felt himself twist through space as he released the magica energy he had gathered. Miraculously he was unharmed and had managed to travel a good ten meters to the other edge of the circus grounds.

"Are you alright?" he heard Mana ask. He looked up to see the boy standing a few strides away from him.

"Well, I'm not dead," said Cross.

He heard a gun click as the safety was released. Cross turned slowly to face the akuma. This was not part of the plan, he thought to himself. He wasn't even sure how the akuma had found them so quickly.

"Arabella?" called out a voice.

Three heads turned to face Pierrot. He was standing about two meters away from the three of them. "Pierrot! Run away!" shouted Mana.

"Is this what was wrong, Cross?" inquired the clown. He took a step towards them.

"Generally speaking," he replied. "But Mana is right. You should run away. It was ordered to kill you first."

"As terrifying as that does sound, I can't," said Pierrot. "How would I be able to live with myself if I let kids get shot at first?"

"It's not thinking! Please, Pierrot!" hollered Mana.

"I know that this is not my Arabella," continued the clown. He took another step forward. "I was afraid of succumbing to my grief like this, so I took a walk out in the hills. When I'm out there it's almost like Lowell is still walking beside me. I had heard stories of the lonely being turned into killing machines by some monster, but I never thought that one of them would be my Arabella. What a terrible husband I am."

There was only about a meter left between them and Pierrot. Mana twitched as he stood in his spot, obviously wanting to run and pull the clown away from his chosen path but too afraid of exacting the akuma's wrath in the process.

Cross, although scared, was impressed by Pierrot's knowledge. "You knew about akuma already?" he asked.

"I've only heard barroom tales and horror stories from old ladies, but yes," responded the clown. "They can't help but want to kill every living being they set eyes upon. My Arabella was never like that, though I suppose if what I've heard is true then that is no longer Arabella."

The clown stopped walking and spread his arms wide like in the images Cross had seen of Christ's crucifixion on the stained glass windows of churches.

"NO!" cried out Mana. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"I wasn't there for Arabella earlier today. It would be a shame if I wasn't there for you boys now," said Pierrot. He smiled at Mana. "I'm really sorry that things have to end this way, Mana. Please try to smile whenever you think of me."

Cross had not noticed the akuma adjust its aim from his face to the clown. He wanted to reach out and grab its arm, but it fired before he could even move a centimeter. The bullet hit the clown on his left side, causing blood to spill out staining the saffron coat. Cross watched as the red blood full of pentacles spread across the coat and the striped pants. Moments later they began to sprout all over the clown's skin. He smiled at them even though Cross could see the pain blazing strongly in his blue eyes. Pierrot then turned to dust and the blood-stained clothes fell to the ground.

Mana screamed and began to fall to the ground on his knees, but Cross knew they had no time for that. He grabbed Mana by the elbow and began to run with the boy. Somehow Mana managed to keep up. The akuma tried to shoot at them, but they quickly turned a corner and weaved through the trailers and tents that dotted the circus grounds.

As they reached the edge of the circus they were greeted by Mr. Ziegler and the other performers. Cross felt his heart sink.

"We missed you boys in town tonight," said Jacqueline, throwing an arm around Cross' shoulder.

Mr. Ziegler seemed to be more perceptive. "You look like der Tod himself, Mana. Are you alright?" inquired the manager.

Cross heard a humming above them and looked up at the sky. Floating like a second dark moon was a metal orb with cannons sticking out at all angles. On one side sat a white face that looked like a clown made up for a show, except there was no smile painted upon its face. He knew at once that this was the same akuma that had just killed Pierrot.

The performers began to gasp, and he heard some of them even scream upon seeing the akuma. "Everybody scatter!" he shouted at them. They didn't need to be told twice. The akuma began to fire at them, but it appeared to have terrible aim so it missed despite firing into a large crowd.

He saw Mana sink down to the ground nearby him. Despite better judgment, Cross ran over to the boy. "Mana!" he shouted. The boy didn't move. "We don't have time to give up right now so get up, you idiot!"

Cross heard the akuma adjust its cannons to face the two of them. He did the only thing that he could at the moment and tried to cover as much of Mana as he could with his own body.

Cross heard an explosion that somehow didn't hit him. He looked up to see a chain lodged in the side of the akuma. The akuma now wore a look of complete shock on its face, one that Cross was certain mirrored the look on his own. He turned his head to see where the chain was coming from. An older man dressed in black robes with golden trim stood with one arm extended, holding the chain. Another chain the extended from his other arm and with very little effort he threw the akuma to the ground. It exploded upon impact sending bits of metal flying in every direction.

"Is everyone alright?" inquired the man. People began to duck out from behind hiding spots. When they saw that the akuma did not rise back up they came out to talk to the man. Pretty soon everyone who had come in from town had gathered back at the entrance to thank the stranger in black.

"Zank you for saving our circus," said Mr. Ziegler, shaking the man's hand.

"How did you do that?" asked one of the acrobats.

The man smiled and turned towards the acrobat. "I'm with the Black Order," he stated. Someone in the crowd whistled. "I saw the fire and heard gunshots as I was passing through the hills. I'm just glad that I arrived before it was too late."

"Pierrot is missing," announced Matilda. "So is Arabella and Ormand. Besides them everyone is accounted for."

"Ormand ran away when he saw the monster," said Cross. He was surprised he could even find his voice at the moment. "The monster got Arabella and Pierrot, though."

He heard Mana sniffle beside him and several others gave out cries of despair. "I am sorry," replied the man.

"Zere ist nothing ve can do now," announced Mr. Ziegler. "Zey are with zeir little boy now. Let me zank you again Herr-"

"Yeager," responded the man. "I'm called Kevin Yeager."

After the fire was put out and several more rounds of thanks that man from the Black Order went along his way. Cross and Mana watched him until he disappeared over the horizon.

oOo

He didn't sleep well that night. Cross would have been surprised if he had fallen asleep at all, so as the sun began to rise he left his small trailer to take a walk outside. The sun was just starting to melt the frost, but there was still enough present for him to see a set of footprints freshly pressed into the grass. He followed them out to the front entrance.

Mana was walking away with a small pack on his back. A bit bewildered, Cross called out to him. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Mana turned back, surprise etched on his tired face, but still he replied. "I think it's time I went along my way," he said. "I've learned pretty much everything that I could have learned from you about working for a living, plus I've got some performance skills now."

"The next town is miles off," he reminded the golden-eyed boy.

"I know that," stated Mana. "I thought about it all night. I don't think I could stay here after what happened to Pierrot. I know it's not really my fault, but I still feel in some ways it is. Don't tell me that I'm crazy, though. While I've been living here I've still been Mana Walker, pretty much the same Mana that left Walker Manor."

"I wouldn't say that," scoffed Cross. "That Mana was a complete brat."

Mana laughed at Cross' poor attempt of a joke and smiled at the magician. "Perhaps you're right. Still I think we're running a big risk travelling together. What if Uncle Adam had seen us yesterday? We would've been caught and taken back to Walker Manor. And… I don't want to go back. Never again. So like how you've ceased to be Gitano, Git, I've got to figure out who Mana is."

"That's pretty philosophical for a rich brat," he remarked. He sighed and ran a hand through his auburn hair. "But perhaps you are right. Do you really think you're ready?"

"I believe I am," declared Mana. He walked back to stand in front of Cross. Mana seemed to be unsure of how to say goodbye, so Cross just extended his right hand. The boy shook it.

"We should meet up in a year, you know, just to catch up and make sure the other guy is still alive. Rhian would never forgive me if I let you loose and never spoke to you again," said Cross.

"I know the circus schedule," replied Mana. "So I'll see you next year in St. Petersburg?"

"St. Petersburg," repeated Cross. He patted Mana on the shoulder. "Now off you go. I'll let the others know that you've gone."

"Thanks for everything, Gitano," stated Mana. With that he walked off down the road away from Ziegler's Circus.

Mana Walker never performed with Ziegler's circus, nor did he ever set foot on Ziegler's circus grounds again.

**Okay I've finally finished this chapter. Probably the longest one in the story so far. I hope you guys enjoyed the very brief appearance of our cannon guest star, General Yeager. Do you guys think Mana will be able to survive out on his own? How do you think Neah is coping with things at home? We'll be finding out more about that in the next chapter. ;) Please review! If you have any questions I will respond to them by private message!**


	7. Chapter 7: Der Erlkoenig

**Alright, this story has reached over 400 hits! Thanks to everyone who has been reading. I haven't written a (serious) story for this universe yet, so any comments on how I'm writing the characters, the timeline, etc. are welcome!**

**Recap: Gitano and Mana ran away to London and then sought to join Ziegler's circus as tumblers. The manager initially rejects them, but then takes them in when he needs a magician for that night's show. Mr. Ziegler renames Gitano, and he starts going by Cross wherever they go. Mana, now reduced to an errand boy, befriends one of the clowns named Pierrot and learns how to juggle from him. However, this friendship is short-lived as Pierrot's young son dies and his wife turns the child into an akuma. Pierrot sacrifices himself to save Mana and Cross, and the akuma is destroyed by Kevin Yeager. Mana is disgusted by the disaster his family has caused and leaves Ziegler's to set out on his own in hopes of becoming something other than a Noah.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it.**

**Part Seven: Der Erlkönig**

"'_My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?'_

'_Look, father, the Erlkönig is close by our side! _

_Dost see not the Erlkönig, with crown and with tail?' _

'_My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain.' _"

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

He should have known that the peace would not last. When he had been Gitano he had always been aware that something would eventually upset even the best of days, whether it was a surprise visit from Road or Neah eating his lunch. However, he had grown a bit careless while living as the Magnificent Magician Cross. Cross had been careful enough whenever he toured in Great Britain, making sure to change his mask to cover his whole face. Mr. Ziegler had given him an odd look when he had requested this, but the old manager gave in to his strange request.

After seven years of living on the run, things began to catch up with him on a snowy night in Berlin. It was Sunday, so he had the night off from performing. Cross had gone into the Prussian capital city and rented a room in a dodgy looking inn in some dark alley. He had seen the place during his last stay in the city, and it seemed like the perfect place to meet Mana. The brat was now a lanky fifteen year old with very long raven hair that he wore tied back in a pony tail. He was quite tall now too, but not as tall as Cross. The magician would always be proud of his height. Mana now traveled as a juggler, joining various circuses and performance troupes every now and then. He spent a lot of his time alone, but the boy seemed to be happy. Cross supposed that that was the least he could ask for considering their situation.

His problem that night was not that Mana was late. It was that the other Walker brother came first.

He had been sitting in a chair in the small room he had rented, looking into the dirty fireplace where a single log burned. Cross had not been expecting much for the cheep rent. All that had really mattered was that it had two chairs and some form of heating. He'd been surprised that the room came had arm chairs, not to mention a shabby oak coffee table to match. There was a bed in the back since he wouldn't be returning to the circus that evening. Knowing Mana, however, Cross wouldn't be surprised if he would end up sleeping on the floor that night. The juggler always forgot to make plans.

When he heard the door open he hadn't bothered to turn and address Mana. He noted, however, that Mana usually knocked.

"Found the place easy enough?" he asked.

"On the contrary, it was quite hard to find," drawled a very proper voice. It held an odd tambour of the voice of a boy that had just reached his teenage years.

Cross whipped around in time to see Neah Walker lock the door. "It's been a long time, Git," said Neah. The boy wore a white dress shirt with a high collar under a satin black vest. A simple cravat that matched the vest was ties lightly around his neck. Neah finished off this gentlemanly attire with a black tailcoat, pants, and a top hat to match.

God, he looks like Tyki, was all that Cross could think. He wouldn't have been surprised if the older Noah had put this outfit together for the boy. Despite how dapper it might have been, Cross still felt that it didn't suit Neah. It might have been the lack of imposing height. Neah wasn't nearly as tall as either him or Mana. Cross, however, still felt an air of authority around the boy. It was the same kind of air Lady Arienne commanded.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. He regretted it after he said it, for it truly seemed like a dumb question that only someone cornered would pose.

Neah saw this as well, and took the opportunity to relax and make himself comfortable. The boy began by taking off his hat and gloves and setting them on the table by the door. "You know, I honestly was afraid I was going to have to fight you," stated Neah. "It seems, however, that you are open for negotiations. Perhaps being a magician isn't as powerful as it sounds."

Cross smirked inwardly. If they had been in his trailer, then he would have blown the brat to high heavens with a flick of his hand. He wasn't willing to pay for property damage, though, so he'd have to listen to what Neah had to say. Plus, he was curious as to how the brat had worked pass Rhian's potion. "No, it's pretty good. I'm just on vacation at the moment, so I suppose I'll forgive you for your presence," he replied. He smiled as Neah frowned. "Let's cut to the chase. You're obviously here for something, and I want to know how you found me."

"True. If you weren't some little human, I might actually like your attitude," declared the golden-eyed brat. He sat down straight backed in a chair opposite of the magician. "I'll be polite and go first. I admitted earlier that it was difficult. Uncle Adam has been looking for my brother and you for ages, but he has never been able to find a trace of either of you. Everyone else tried, but there were no results. In the end, I began to suspect that someone must be tampering with us. I thought about eliminating the source."

Cross didn't dare to look at his right hand holding the arm of his chair in a death grip. Neah thankfully did not seem to notice. "But then I thought better," continued Neah. "Why would someone go through all this trouble to protect you two-"

"If the spell would just ware off at the time of death," finished Cross. He had to hand it to the kid; he was smarter than he thought. Cross had been thinking that Neah would just end up being one of those aristocrats who didn't know anything except how to charm people with good looks and talent. "It would be a waste and rather impractical."

"I decided to wait," responded Neah. "As I suspected when the old hag passed there was no change. Uncle Adam still could not find you two."

Cross felt his heart fall a bit. "So Rhian has passed," he said.

"About a year and a half ago," replied Neah. "It was a shame. She was a good cook."

He wanted to smack Neah across the face. Apparently the boy had not developed any sense of respect for the older woman during his absence. "She was much more than that," he practically hissed at Neah.

"Who cares? She's pushing daisies now. I suppose you learned nothing from my lectures all those years ago," stated Neah. He arched an eyebrow.

"You are fourteen and I am sixteen. What the hell makes you think I'm ever going to listen to you?" inquired Cross furiously.

"This is getting much too heated," interrupted Neah. "I'll continue with my tale. Perhaps you'll feel a bit more civilized after that."

"Like hell," muttered Cross under his breath. He was about ready to punt the kid out the front door.

"I came to a realization one day as I sat playing the piano," continued Neah. "The old hag probably didn't want _us_ to find you, but not _everyone_. There must have been some stipulation that any member of the Clan would never find you two. The distinction in whatever magic she used was people being a member of the Clan. That meant that in the end _I_ would never be about to find you. Someone else, however, could."

"Someone else?" asked Cross. Now he really was curious.

"Uncle Adam has some _acquaintances_, some lowly humans that he allows to loiter about as we work towards our bright future. I thought nothing of them at first, but I learned that they were actually pretty clever and more persistent than your average human," responded Neah. "In the end I struck a bargain with them, for they will do pretty much anything if the pay is right. I was to give them information, and they were to find either my brother or you."

"I suppose that I'm the lucky one," Cross grumbled.

"You proved to be much easier to find than Mana," agreed Neah. "They heard of traces of him, but apparently he travels around on his own time. I'm surprise you two actually thought ahead and split up. I must commend you for that."

He was pretty sick of being patronized by the younger boy by now. "So why did you go through all this trouble to find me anyways if I'm just some lowly human doomed to die?" he questioned.

"Oh, you're just a way to get what I want," responded Neah. The boy turned to look him directly in the eyes. It was somewhat unnerving. Neah's eyes seemed to have some sort of predatory glint to them that Mana had never had. "I want to speak with Mana."

This was an interesting and very bad development. Cross did not want to know what Neah wanted with his older brother, and he wasn't about to let the younger boy get it. There was also the fact that Cross had actually been waiting for Mana to show up. He'd have to do whatever he could to get Neah out of the inn before Mana came. "What makes you think I know where he is?" asked Cross. "I'm free and that's all I can ask for."

Neah smirked. "I know you better than that, _Git_. You might act all cold and tough on the outside, but you've got a soft spot for kids. If you didn't care then you would have run away long before you did," said Neah. "Although my brother may be fifteen now, he's still just a child in your eyes. You're a magician, so you've got your ways to keep tabs on him."

He frowned at the young Noah. "Even if I did know, what makes you think I'd actually tell you?" he inquired. "You know that I don't consider your kind with compassion. Plus, you two are inclined to tear apart whatever city you meet in. I haven't forgotten the last time you fought."

Neah laughed. It was a highly controlled and very cold laugh that only a true aristocrat could pull off. "Oh, I don't want to fight my brother," he chuckled. "It would ruin the suit. I just want to talk to him."

"You want to talk to him," stated Cross in complete disbelief.

"That's all," replied Neah. He gave his most charming grin.

Cross really doubted the boy and his charming smiles. "Talk can have multiple meanings," he said.

"I don't see why you want to prevent two grown brothers from having a conversation. Are you scared for Mana's safety or something stupid like that?" questioned Neah.

"No," responded Cross. He didn't need Neah thinking that he was willing to risk his life for the older Walker boy. "I'm still not going to tell you."

Neah pursed his lips and stood up. He walked over to the fireplace and then to the window next to it. "That's a shame. And I told Sophia Maria that I'd let her know how the two of you were faring in the world. She's taken Rhian's place in the household," drawled Neah. He didn't even turn around to see Cross' eyes widen at the mention of his childhood friend. "She truly has grown into a lovely young girl- sings like a nightingale when I ask her to. She would have many suitors when she reached adulthood if she had been born into respectable society."

He didn't like this talk one bit. It was obvious what Neah was getting at: he still had a part of his younger self under his power. "I'm not here to trade stories," growled Cross.

"Sophia hardly talks, though. I'm not sure if that is Mother's fault or the Camelots' doing," continued Neah. He ran his fingers over the painted-wood windowsill. "She does speak, however, when I mention you. Surely you would like to speak with her again."

Cross remained silent. He would not give into Neah Walker. He couldn't give in to that brat.

Neah finally turned away from the window. "Perhaps you are like my other acquaintances. Fine. I propose a bargain. There's a lovely little country road just outside Berlin. If you agree to bring my brother along for a short visit, then I'll bring Sophia with me. I'll even bring a couple observers- of course no one from the Clan- to make sure that the bargain is met," stated Neah. "I won't even tell the Clan where I am going. Only the six of us will ever know that this occurred."

"Sounds dodgy to me," grunted Cross.

"No, this is just how society works," retorted Neah. "So do we have a deal?" The boy extended his hand.

He did want to see Sophia again. Cross could still remember her face that night when she saw he was leaving. He also thought about Rhian- Rhian who had kept his reasons for running away a secret, who kept Mana safe, who wanted them to wait for Rory…

He couldn't betray that, even if it meant never seeing his friend again.

"There's no way that I'd ever accept any deal from you," he spat. Cross turned slightly away from the boy so he wouldn't see the conflict in his soul.

He still could see Neah raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eyes. The boy shrugged and retracted his hand. "Apparently you need some time to think it over," he said with a shrug. He pulled a card out of his front breast pocket and placed it on top of the coffee table. "When you've _truly_ made up your mind, then send me a telegraph at this number. It belongs to the acquaintances I mentioned earlier, so you don't have to worry about my family finding out about our little meeting. I think in time you'll come to see that this is a very good bargain."

Neah walked over to the table by the door and began working his long fingers through his gloves. "I'll be expecting an answer by the end of the week. Good night," stated the boy. As soon as he put his hat on his head he unlocked the door and left Cross to brood.

He sighed out loud after he was sure Neah was completely out of ear reach (that being about fifteen minutes later). The atmosphere in the room seemed much darker now than when he first arrived. Cross threw another log on the fire and rubbed his hands together. He began to think more now. Perhaps if he changed his name or cut his hair the freaky golden-eyed boy and his 'acquaintances' would lose sight of him again. Somehow, however, he doubted that.

He heard a knock at the door. This time Cross went to personally answer the door. "Hello!" said Mana cheerily. He was all rosy-cheeked from the cold, but a large grin had spread across his face. Cross saw that Mana's hair was even longer than the last time he had seen the boy, though he had now let his bangs grow longer and even more unruly than before. He was in one piece and did not seem aware of the shadow of an elephant in the room.

Cross stepped aside to let him into the room. "You sure picked a shady locale. I had a real problem trying to find this place," continued Mana. The boy kicked his shoes off and sat in the chair that Neah had left less than half an hour ago, propping his feet up on the small coffee table.

"I'm a magician, not a millionaire," replied Cross. "Someday you're going to take a turn paying for this kind of stuff."

"But I come bearing gifts!" exclaimed the juggler. Cross had not noticed that the juggler had brought a paper bag along with his usual battered suitcase. Mana produced two bottles of wine from the bag. "It's cheap stuff, but I thought it might put you in a bit more of a holiday spirit. Someone told me that it's Christmas next week."

Cross had not really developed a drinking habit at this point in his career. It might have been due to the fact that he was always cleaning up after Jacqueline when she showed up drunk on his doorstep (it was a weekly occurrence). He didn't want to have to take care of himself along with the trick rider. Tonight, though, Cross really needed a pick me up. He used a space transport spell to retrieve two glasses from his trailer. "How kind of you," he said to Mana. "I didn't know that you drank."

"Only on special occasions," responded Mana. Cross poured the boy a glass and handed it to him. "When you hang around a bunch of adults who are plastered all the time you sort of have to copy in order to get along with them."

"True enough," stated Cross. He took a sip from his own glass and felt his throat instantly dry up. "This is definitely cheap stuff."

"When have I ever lied to you?" asked Mana. The magician frowned at him. "You could be an old man already, Git. Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen you laugh."

"The world isn't that funny," he replied. He set his glass down on the coffee table, hoping that Mana wouldn't upset it with some wild movement. Stupid jugglers, he thought. "How have you been?"

Mana lowered his glass. "Oh, I've been well," started the boy. "I traveled all through Spain this year as well as France and Belgium. I'm headed south again tomorrow. There's a circus that I meet up with every so often that's touring in Greece, and they'd like me to meet them there."

"That's good," mumbled Cross. Mana seemed to be able to sense that his mind was elsewhere.

"Do you see what I mean?" inquired Mana in jest. "Staring into the fire and brooding is an old man thing! Unless you're thinking about some girl-"

Cross turned a bright shade of red. "W-where did you get that kind of an idea?" questioned the magician. Mana laughed at his expression.

"Luckily I know you well enough to say that since your face is the color of beets right now that there is no lady in your life," chuckled Mana. Cross was seriously considering smashing his glass into Mana's head. "It's truly unfortunate! I should like to meet the lady-friend if you ever have one."

"And I suppose that at the young age of fifteen you are an expert of romance," grumbled Cross.

"Well there was Veronica…" began Mana. Cross spit the wine in his mouth onto the table, causing Mana to dissolve into another fit of laughter. "Don't worry! I only kissed her once…"

"You're going to be the death of me, you damned brat," he coughed. He took out a handkerchief to wipe the wine off the table. He didn't need the owner of this place charging him for stains on the furniture. Cross didn't notice that he'd knocked the card off the table.

"I've got it," said Mana. For some reason, Cross didn't even think about stopping him until it was too late. "What's this?"

"It's-" started Cross, but he knew that Mana had seen.

The boy's facial expression darkened. "So Neah was in Berlin," stated Mana. He flipped the card over in his hands. "I thought I saw him go by in a coach, but I convinced myself that it had to be someone else. What was he doing here? And how did he even find you?"

"He didn't," replied Cross. There was no avoiding telling him the truth now. "He had some _acquaintances_ find me. The potion apparently doesn't work on humans working for the Clan of Noah."

"And he didn't hurt you or anything?" asked Mana. He appeared to be truly concerned.

"Nope. Just wanted to chat," responded Cross. He hoped that Mana would be bitter enough to drop the subject, but the boy persisted.

"Neah would never just want to chat. None of them would ever just want to chat. What did he want?" inquired Mana bitterly. Cross decided to pour him more wine. He was definitely not in the comforting or pep talk mood tonight.

"He wanted to know where you were," he said. "You don't need to worry, though. I didn't tell him where you were. It also appears that you move frequently enough that his acquaintances couldn't find you either. Perhaps I should give traveling a try."

"Why the hell would he want to know where I am?" asked Mana. He clenched his glass tightly in his left hand, his golden eyes narrowed and partially hidden by his unruly bangs. Cross was beginning to think that he'd probably be fixing glass later tonight. "Isn't it enough that he's the head of the damn family? I don't have anything left to give to him! And when Rory comes back I'm not letting him have him either! I don't want anything to do with him!"

With that Mana threw the glass at the wall. That was one glass down.

"I didn't think so," said Cross. "That's why I turned him down- three times."

Mana turned to face him. Cross saw that the boy was no longer furious though his messy bangs still flopped in his face. "He asked more than once?" inquired Mana. He appeared to be actually curious now. "That makes it seem like he is desperate."

Cross mulled this over in his mind. "I didn't give it much thought at the time, but that does seem right," he agreed. "The Neah I remember would have thrown me out a window or burned down the inn if he didn't get what he wanted."

"Did he say anything of interest?" questioned Mana.

"He talked a bit about home," he replied. "Rhian passed last year, so now Sophia is working at Walker Manor."

"Sophia Maria? That tiny girl that waited on Road?" asked Mana. Cross nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. Road probably has an akuma maid working for her now. Uncle Sheryl never did take a wife, so there's no reason for them to keep a human around the house. Sophia is pretty lucky that my mother is still around. I don't know what my _family_ would do if she wasn't. Frankly, I don't even want to think about it."

He must have betrayed some sort of emotion on his face, for Mana stopped and looked at him. "I suppose that's no good at all in this situation. She pretty much just functions as a hostage in our case," said Mana.

"Yes," responded Cross. "Neah wanted to meet in a week's time outside of Berlin. He said I was to bring you and he'd bring Sophia and a couple human witnesses to make sure the deal was kept."

Mana's brow furrowed. He set his gaze on the fire. Cross did the same. They sat there for several minutes in complete silence as the fire crackled in its hearth. Finally, Mana spoke.

"I want to talk to him," he declared.

Cross looked aghast at the boy. "I already told him no. I don't see why I should change my mind now!" he exclaimed.

Mana turned to face him. "I'm not crazy about the idea either, but something just tells me that I should meet him," stated Mana.

"What about all that Rhian did?" inquired Cross. "You'd risk everything to talk with your brother."

"I'm not risking anything," replied the boy. "Neah is taking a greater risk because we'll have an advantage. Because of Rhian's potion he probably won't see us until we speak. We'd have every opportunity to ambush him. Plus, the fact that he's going behind the Earl's back like this means he'll be in bigger trouble if anyone catches us. He probably would have told the entire Clan where we were by now if he wanted to. His _acquaintances_ would probably have done the same, but they didn't. I'd like to know why."

"You're crazy," mumbled Cross, glowering at Mana.

"I also hate thinking some kid is the one in danger while we're out here having fun," said Mana. "I can tell you want to see Sophia, and I'd like to see that she's okay."

Cross sighed. "So you want me to send the telegraph?" he asked.

"Yes," responded Mana curtly. He turned to the second wine bottle and uncorked it. "Neah is such a party-pooper. Let's at least be merry tonight!" Mana took a swig directly from the bottle.

Cross rolled his eyes and went to retrieve the shards of glass from the floor. In a few minutes the glass was repaired. He handed it to Mana. "Use this at least. I don't want you vomiting all over the place," he said.

Mana shoved the bottle in his face. "I can't drink this all by myself! If you don't want me to vomit, then drink your fair share!" he sang out cheerfully.

Cross took the bottle and poured himself another glass.

oOo

Needless to say, he woke up the next morning on the floor with a splitting headache. When he looked over at the bed he saw Mana sprawled over it. He wasn't surprised. The boy's face twitched in his face as though he were combating some sort of nightmare. Cross would not have been surprised if it involved Neah.

He slipped out into the early morning air to find a communications station. He had never sent a telegram before in his life, but he found a place on one of the more developed streets, Unter den Linden. The man working there was surprisingly very helpful and even showed him how the machine worked. Unfortunately, he had to use the rest of his spare money to send the telegraph. Cross was about to leave, when he got a reply back.

_received message and neah delighted stop take main road ten miles out in countryside december twenty-fourth stop meet under willow tree_

_B_

Cross took the message with him and thanked the attendant. When he returned to the rented room he saw that Mana was now awake, so he gave him the telegraph.

"B?" questioned Mana.

"I'm guessing it's an initial," replied Cross. "I have to go back to the circus today, so how about we meet on the twenty-fourth at the outskirts of town."

Mana nodded. "That sounds good. Do you think the fellow who owns this place will let me stay here until then? Albeit the scary exterior it's a nice room," said Mana, running a finger over the mantel.

Cross shrugged. "Do what you want. I'm not paying for it, though," he stated. He took his bag and left for the circus. Cross decided that Mana could deal with whatever mess was left in the room from the previous night. He'd even let him have the wine glasses.

oOo

He knocked on the door of Latham's trailer as soon as he returned to Ziegler's circus.

A skinny blonde man wearing a straw hat poked his head out of the door and smiled. "Morning, Cross. What can I do for you?" asked the man.

"I was wondering if I could borrow a gun," said Cross.

Latham whistled. "I generally don't lend my guns out. What is it for?" inquired the man.

Now he was in a tight spot. "There's a man who is threatening one of my friends. I'm afraid he may attack him," he stated. He felt that the truth might actually help him on this occasion.

The blonde man nodded. "That sounds like a serious problem. I'm guessing he must be the underworld type, huh? That's the only case when I wouldn't go to the constable."

"Yeah…" replied Cross. He wasn't sure if the Clan of Noah counted as the Underworld or not.

Latham went back inside and came back with a revolver. "Have you ever shot one before?" inquired Latham.

"No," he responded. "I was hoping you could teach me, being a sharp-shooter and all."

Latham smiled and tipped his hat. "Of course, Cross. How about we got out to the big top, and I'll show you a few tricks. Maybe you'll have the basics down by this evening."

They worked at it all day. Fortunately, he seemed to have a hidden talent for shooting. Latham remarked that he should have gone into the army or joined his act if he were not a magician.

"You have very good potential!" exclaimed the blonde man, throwing his hat up in the air. "I couldn't even shoot like that on my first day. Come by tomorrow before the show, and I'll show you some more tricks."

After a week of practice, Cross went to meet Mana on the outskirts of Berlin. They were ready to face Neah.

**Alright we have had the return of Neah! What does Neah want? Will both sides keep their promises? And who is B? Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8: Der Lindenbaum

**I'm just so excited to write this chapter, that I'm going to take a break from studying for finals (probably will regret this later). XD Anyhow, thanks to everyone who has read the story so far!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to D. Gray-man. I also don't own the completely italicized dialogue or the portion of chapter 212 that it comes from (spoiler alert).**

**Part Eight: Der Lindenbaum**

"_The icy winds were blowing, straight in my face they ground. The hat tore off my forehead. I did not turn around._"

Wilhelm Müller

Cross and Mana walked in silence for the entire ten miles to the meeting place. All of Mana's humor from the previous week appeared to be gone, reminding Cross strongly of the boy he with whom he had run away from Walker Manor. He didn't even try to strike up a conversation to settle his nerves. Under his thick black winter coat Cross touched the handle of the revolver hanging loosely in its holster, just to make sure it was still there.

Cold gusts of wind blew across the covered fields, whipping snow up into tiny whirlwinds. The overcast sky seemed to reflect the mood of the two travelers as it grew darker through the morning. There was snow piled in thigh high drifts along the road. Even though most of the snow on the road was compacted he could still feel it soaking through his boots. Cross kept in mind to purchase a new pair whenever he next had extra money. Mana shivered in his beige trenchcoat. He was certain that the snow must have soaked through Mana's worn traveling shoes by now, and Cross couldn't fathom why the brat did not wear a thicker shirt besides the customary thin white cotton one he'd always worn. He began to wonder if Mana hoped to fall ill before they reached the appointed meeting point so that they could turn back without looking like cowards.

Then again, Mana's shivering might not have been caused by the cold alone.

The snow began to fall heavier than it had earlier in the day. After they passed a lone farm house Cross saw the willow about a mile down the road. There stood two people leaned against the snow-covered fence surrounding the neighboring field and two others standing in the middle of the road.

Mana stopped in his tracks. "Is that them?" he asked.

"I believe so," replied Cross. "You wait here for a moment. I'm going to make sure that Neah really kept his end of the deal. It's still possible that he sent someone else in his stead."

"Alright," agreed Mana. "Be careful though."

Cross continued walking alone. He stopped as soon as he was close enough to see that one of the people in the middle of the road was indeed Neah and not some other member of his family. The two people next to the fence looked up at him. In all of his travels Cross had met some strange people, but the two men next to the fence had even the circus freaks beat. One of them appeared to be about his age. He had shaggy bright red hair that hung around his head. Under the red hair was a pair of golden studs in the boy's ears. He had never seen a man with piercings before (not counting the pierced man at Ziegler's- it was just that guy's thing). Something irked Cross about the way the boy's droopy dark eyes stared at him. The boy seemed greatly out of place in the German countryside as he was dressed in a light cotton shirt only covered by a black cloak. The red head had nothing on the other man. This man was far older and wore clothes that looked similar to those carried by merchants from the Far East. As Cross looked between him and the boy he noticed that both looked like they must have travelled from the Asian continent. The old man's hair was pulled into a top knot, and it looked like his hairline was receding. Like the boy, his ears were pierced, though he seemed to have chosen some cylindrical shape instead of studs. His most distinctive feature was his coal-rimmed eyes that bored into Cross. If the boy was irksome, then this man was just frightening.

"I suppose these are your acquaintances, Neah," Cross said. It seemed like a good start.

Neah thankfully didn't appear to mind the lack of greeting. Perhaps the boy wanted to get this over with as much as he did. "I see you noticed. Don't mind them, though. They're just Bookmen," responded Neah nonchalantly.

"Bookmen?" inquired Cross. He had never heard of Bookmen during his entire time at Walker Manor.

"They record the history of the world as you and I see it," stated Neah. "Of course, they never share any information once they've recorded it. It's against their credo. The old man is The Bookman, and the younger his apprentice, Sanjiv or Junior. Take your pick at names. I let them come along so that they might add this moment to their logs."

Despite how odd it sounded, Cross decided just to go with the flow and turned away from the two pairs of staring eyes. He turned his attention to the fourth person standing next to Neah. This one was a girl wearing a cloak with the hood hanging low over her face. Cross wasn't able to determine outright whether this was Sophia or not. The girl went to take a step forward, but Neah held up a hand to block her path.

"Not so fast," said Neah. He looked directly into Cross' eyes. "Where's my dear brother?"

"I decided to come ahead to make sure you were not planning some sort of ambush," replied Cross. "When I saw so many people waiting under the tree I was inclined to believe you might have broken your part of the bargain."

A snarl warped the boy's graceful face. "Why would I go through all this trouble if it were some kind of a trap," spat Neah. He pulled out a knife and pointed it at the girl behind him. She squeaked and tried to back away, but Neah grabbed her around the shoulders to pull her closer. "Where is Mana?"

Cross moved to pull out the revolver on his hip, but he stopped when a voice spoke. "I'm right here," called a voice right behind him. He felt the eyes of the Bookmen leave him to look at Mana. "Put the knife down, Neah. You look barbaric."

Mana walked slowly past Cross with his hands up in mock surrender. Neah glowered at Mana but did as his older brother said. He let go of the girl who backed away instantly. "You can take the hood off now, Sophia," stated Neah, seeming to regain some of his composure.

The girl did as she was told. Cross felt relieved to see that the girl under the hood was not Road or some other member of the Clan of Noah. He had not known what to expect when seeing Sophia again. The image he held onto in his mind had been that of the tiny child he had left behind in order to help Mana and pursue his own freedom. It was very strange to see her now as the teenage girl she was. Sophia wasn't very tall, but her arms and hands had lost all shaky clumsiness that he had generally associated her with and were now replaced with a delicate grace. She was still very thin, and her hair was just as black and curly as before. Something, however, was different about her. Cross couldn't put his finger on it, yet he was too preoccupied with the actual moment to actually think more about it.

Her face still spoke of the shadows that haunted her in Walker Manor, but despite that she smiled at him. He felt suddenly very guilty for leaving her behind, more so now then when he had left seven years ago. Cross opened his mouth to speak, but realized that he didn't know what to say.

Luckily Mana decided to be amicable and take care of speaking for all of them. "Sophia, it's good to see that you are well," the juggler began.

"It is good to see you too, Mana," she replied, turning to speak to him. "I never imagined that you would be so tall…"

Neah grunted and shifted in his spot, not looking at either Sophia or Mana. Cross normally would have laughed at such a display of envy over such a trivial matter, but he felt that it would be better not to say anything.

"I'm afraid I don't have time to chat now, for I have been told that it was my brother who wished to speak with me," said Mana regretfully. "How about we do this properly like in any hostage situation?" Sophia tensed up at the mention of hostage, but then seemed to relax as Mana continued. "When I count to three I'll cross over to my brother and you come over here and say hello to Cross… Git… Gitano… whatever you'd like to call him."

She nodded with a look in her eyes that almost seemed like mirth. As soon as Mana said three they crossed paths. Sophia began smiling again as soon as she was in front of him. "Hello…" she stated timidly.

Cross finally cracked a grin, now completely certain that this was Sophia and that Neah wasn't going to stab her. "Sorry about earlier," he began. "You can never be too careful with a brat like Neah."

Sophia actually laughed at this, a bit of a restrained laugh that Cross was sure she'd mastered over years of practice, but a laugh all the same. He felt a pair of eyes return to look at him and saw it was the one that Neah had called Junior. Cross thought about sending the boy a glare, but decided against it. He wasn't sure how far the 'unbiased' credo extended, and he sure didn't want a knife thrown at him now. "I was expecting you to be really different, but I suppose that I was wrong," she chortled. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a blue wool scarf. "Here, I made this for you. I have one for Mana as well, though I don't know if he'll actually take it. Hopefully you two won't be too cold walking back to Berlin."

He took the scarf from her hands and draped it around his neck. "Thanks," he said. They were silent for a couple moments, a couple very awkward moments, before he spoke again. "I heard about Rhian."

Sophia bowed her head, but luckily no tears came to her eyes. "Yes, she passed in her sleep," she responded. "All in all not too bad of a way to go. They had me move in to take care of Lady Arienne after that."

"Is she not well?" Cross asked. Perhaps this was what had caused Neah to call on his brother.

"She hasn't truly been well since… you know… the whole thing with Rory," replied Sophia, her voice dying off as she continued speaking.

"You remember that?" he inquired. He really wished that Junior would stop looking at them. It was very unnerving. Cross sent a glare at the boy, but it was wasted for Junior didn't even flinch.

"Of course I do, I never told anyone about it, though," she said. She saw that he was glaring at Junior. "You'll get used to them. They stayed at the manor for half a year at one point. The old man has had ties with Lord Adam for a while."

"Fancy that," Cross muttered. Now he wasn't only annoyed, but extremely wary. He knew that if he told Mana this now the boy would probably run all the way back to Berlin. Lord Adam had become a taboo subject after the incident in Austria with Pierrot and Arabella. "Not very cheery, are they?"

"They hardly speak a word," agreed Sophia. "They're not bad, not like the others. It's odd, but I can sense a kind of goodness about them."

He snorted, and Sophia swatted him on the shoulder. Cross wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly Sophia's arms were wrapped around him in a tight hug. Junior almost quirked an eyebrow. He looked away from the red head and down at his friend, his face slightly flushed. "I missed you," murmured Sophia into the thick fabric of his winter coat. Cross wrapped one arm around her back and patted her, not wanting to show too much affection. Then again, he was starting to wonder what kind of face Junior might make if he were to hug her back or kiss her on the cheek like some old Italian grandmother. It was sorely tempting.

He redirected his attention back to Mana. It would be a shame for the kid to be ruthlessly murdered by his brother after walking all morning to meet him. Fortunately they were both standing there alive and completely unharmed. From the looks of things neither had spoken yet.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" inquired Mana finally while show blew in front of his face. It was a good humored question, but it held remnants of the gruff childhood Mana buried underneath. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat. The boy scuffed his right shoe on the snow covered road, waiting for his brother to speak.

Neah smirked, but not the usual wide smirk that twisted his young face the last time Cross had seen him. It was almost… human, as if Neah were holding back some biting remark. "Call it what you like, Mana. You were always terrible at socializing," responded Neah.

"Is that all this is?" questioned Mana, his voice now hard. His eyes narrowed slightly. "You have never asked to talk before. Why should I believe that you want to chat now?" Despite how brave Mana sounded at that moment, Cross could still see the boy's hands trembling. Sophia let go of him in order to move to his side, though she still held onto his closest arm as if she were clinging to life.

"Well obviously you wanted to talk just as badly," scoffed Neah. "Why else would you be here? Perhaps we should start again. How's life in the circus?"

"My business is my own," seethed Mana. "I didn't come here to exchange life stories with you. I honestly don't care to hear about our doting mother, your loving Road, or you for the record."

"Will you shut up about Road for a minute?" snapped Neah, glaring at his older brother. "I really have no choice in that matter."

"How unfortunate," gasped Mana, mockingly throwing up a hand to cover his mouth. "God forbid that you make real choices or go against the family's wishes. You all make me sick." Mana spat on the ground in front of him.

"Was it always like this with those two?" inquired Sophia.

"Just about," replied Cross. He was beginning to think he'd actually have to break up a fight today. It made him regret letting the brats meet at all.

"Besides I think you probably know everything you'd need to know about me with your little spies hunting for me," growled Mana throwing an arm out towards the Bookmen. "Yeah, I know about that now. Enough about me, though. How about you? Joined up with the Clan yet?"

Neah's eyes began to glow like molten gold. His usually pale skin darkened to an ashy gray, and little crosses appeared in a row on his forehead. Cross took a step back, mildly disturbed. Neah had told him many times that he was a superhuman, but this was more than Cross had expected. "Happy now?" asked Neah with a shrug. He morphed back into his usual form. "I've taken up my duty to the Clan. What about you, Mana? I haven't felt my memory change for you. Haven't you fully awaken yet?"

"I'm not," stated Mana. "I gave up that path long ago. I'm no longer a member of the Clan of Noah."

Neah appeared to be totally shocked at this revelation. Junior moved to a step forward in intrigue, though his face showed nothing.

"Not a member?" inquired Neah. "You were _born_ a member."

"Anyone can be born a member," responded Mana. "The entire family, even Road, was human at one point. I just chose not to be involved, so the Noah gene left me alone."

"You've chosen to be a lowly human," breathed Neah in disbelief.

"Mother is human as well," retorted Mana. "Does that make her lowly?"

"She's the mother of a new evolution in the human race! Even though she is not one of us, she will hold a high place of honor in the new world!" exclaimed Neah, his face turning red in anger. "You were privileged to be the first of this evolution, and you've thrown it away!"

"And I'm proud of the fact!" shouted Mana. His face was completely devoid of humor. "This was a complete waste of my time." He turned on his heels to storm away.

"Wait!" called Neah, reaching out to his brother's retreating back. "I wasn't finished."

"Well then why the hell are we here in the middle of a storm?" bellowed Mana, his golden eyes flashing dangerously.

For a moment, he thought he saw fear in Neah's eyes. The boy soon had his poker face on again. "I was waiting," he stated.

"For what?" spat Mana.

"For Rory," replied Neah. It seemed like the heavens had dropped an elephant or maybe a whole herd of elephants from the heavenly zoo to meander along the road and to watch with focused awkward eyes like the Bookmen. Mana flinched at the name. "He hasn't come back yet, has he?"

Silence prevailed once again. Cross could vaguely imagine an elephant nibbling the old man's top knot. "Does he still want to kill him?" he hissed at Sophia. "I thought disappearing off this plain of existence for some time would have been good enough."

"I don't know," she whispered back. "It's odd. All I know is that Rory disappeared in Neah's room, which according to Rhian is not just some sort of bedroom. He always keeps the door slightly open when he hasn't locked himself inside."

"No he hasn't," growled Mana bitterly. He seemed to have found his voice again, as well as his old temper. It was a shame, thought Cross. Mana had truly begun breaking out of his angry shell and now he was back to grumbling like some sort of beast. Junior's eyes once again left him and Sophia to look at Mana. "What do you care?"

"I just wanted to know you weren't hiding him from everyone," said Neah. "We are his family-"

"Any family that wishes to kill one of their members is no family at all!" hollered Mana. The wind blew his pony tail out behind him, making the long strands look like the shadowy tendrils he had used as a weapon in the ark. "Even if he had reappeared before now I would never bring him home!"

Neah's poker face fell at that. He no longer looked like a well-to-do young gentleman, but a broken child, a lonely child. "So you never intended to come home?" he asked.

Cross couldn't see Mana's face, but if his back were saying anything then the boy must have been surprised at Neah's reaction. He was astounded himself. Cross turned to look at Sophia, but she had her gaze locked on the two Walker brothers. The Bookmen also seemed preoccupied by this exchange.

"Neah?" inquired the older boy. He had frozen in his spot, the anger and tension from before gone from his body. His arms hung like the bare branches of the weeping willow on the side of the road.

"I have spoken to people who know you. They said you were kind. At first I couldn't believe it, but then I thought maybe you had changed. Maybe you would actually return with Rory and be content living with Mother and me," remarked Neah. His shoulders were slumped forward. "Apparently they lied to me because you're still the selfish brat who abandoned his family seven years ago!"

"Neah…" said Mana, taking a step forward.

"DON'T COME NEAR ME!" bellowed Neah, holding up a hand in front of him although his eyes were now cast to the ground. "What do you even know about my life? You didn't care if I had to stay alone in that house with Mother for the rest of my life. If Rory had shown up you would have just kept going along your merry way and taken him with you! Nevermind that Mother isn't well and that she asks for him _every day_. Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning and knock on her door only to have her ask if it is Rory? It's always been about Rory! As soon as Rhian told her that you caused the accident, she's acted like you didn't exist. But it's not just you she forgot. She only talks about Rory, Rory, Rory! She doesn't even seem to realize that she still has one son left!"

Tears were now falling freely down Neah's face. It was a very disturbing display in Cross' opinion. Neah had been the child who _never_ cried. Mana had broken down a couple times in front of him, but Neah had been stoic. Neah had been the cheerful one, the high-spirited child that laughed as he ran across the dead golden fields of wheat. To see his tears creating tiny indents in the snow and freezing in tracks on his face had never been a sight that Cross ever imagined.

"Why did you even run away?" sobbed Neah. "Everyone thinks it's your fault… I'm terrified to think of what they would say if they found out it was mine… You gave up everything… _everything_… I-I never wanted to be the rock… the one people depended upon… you were always better at that… but you left everything to _me_… _why_?"

Neah's legs gave out and he sank down onto his knees. Cross almost felt bad enough that he thought about walking over there and picking him up. Almost, but not quite.

Mana, however, began to walking slowly towards his brother again. He stopped as soon as he was right in front on his brother, who was crying quietly into the snow. Cross could tell from the way Mana's hands shook, his shoulders trembled, and his voice quivered that he was crying as well.

"_Neah_," he said. He stared down at his brother. "_Do you hate me_?"

Neah looked up from the ground to his older brother. Cross felt Sophia clutch tighten around his arm. The cold wind blew even harder, picking up more snow off the road than it had before.

Mana's coat billowed behind him as he knelt down to Neah's level. He reached out a hand to touch the younger boy's face and wipe away falling tears. "_Neah_," Mana practically mumbled. "I never meant to hurt you. I hadn't thought about how this would affect you. Perhaps you're right. What a terrible older brother I am…"

Cross recalled another man saying something quite similar, a man who wore red-and-purple-striped pants and a saffron evening jacket. He supposed that Pierrot had never left the older Walker brother's mind. Blinking his eyes Cross focused on the present moment again. It was truly touching. He had never seen Mana and Neah get along. Ever. This was the kind of interaction he would have expected between Mana and Rory.

Neah finally stopped crying. "I'd tell the truth if you would come home," he sniffled. "I don't care how angry Uncle Adam and Mother would be."

Mana stiffened up for a moment, but then relaxed. "I can't," he replied. "I couldn't turn back now if I wanted to. I promised to wait."

Fresh tears formed in Neah's eyes. "What would it take to get you to come back?" asked Neah. His eyes were wide with desperation.

"Open your eyes and see the world for yourself," responded Mana. He stood up and walked away from his brother towards Cross and Sophia. "When you find your own side of this whole mess, then I will follow you wherever that may take me."

He stopped when he reached the midpoint between Cross and Neah. Sophia took this as her signal to do the same. She let go of his arm and pressed his hand slightly. "It was good to see you again, Gitano," she said. She walked steadily to the midpoint but stopped to hand Mana a gray wool scarf. "I'm afraid that I ran out of colors…"

"It's perfect the way it is," stated Mana. He took the scarf with a smile and wrapped it around his neck. "I'm afraid that I didn't think ahead to bring you anything."

"It's fine, really-" protested Sophia. Cross couldn't fathom why, and it surely had him flustered, but Mana turned to Sophia and pecked her on the cheek. Cross was pretty sure he looked just as shocked as Neah and Sophia did. Her cheeks flushed a very bright pink, which only stood out more against her pale skin and dark hair. Both of Junior's eyebrows were lifted about as high as they could go. Perhaps Mana had also wanted to rile the seemingly apathetic Bookmen.

"That will have to do," replied Mana with a very cheeky grin on his face. "Happy Christmas, Sophia, and good luck."

Cross wanted to hit himself. So that was the reason for Mana's suddenly rash behavior. He remembered the boy mentioning in the inn that the holiday season was coming up. Cross wished he had remembered the day, for he didn't have anything to give her.

His mind wandered to the ring around his neck, the one he'd gotten for pretending to be some old lady's grandson. It wasn't like he needed it. "From me to you," he muttered under his breath. Cross felt the ring disappear from around his neck. Hopefully it had landed in her pocket; though he was pretty sure he had transport spells like that mastered. He saw her hand move inside her cloak, and he smiled.

Mana had calmed down by the time he reached Cross. "How did Junior look?" he inquired in a conspiring tone. "And the old geezer?"

"The geezer didn't bat an eyelid," responded Cross. Mana pouted. This was the Mana Cross was accustomed to. "Junior, on the other hand was starting to look like his head might pop off."

Mana chuckled evilly. "Good, then I believe I've officially had the best Christmas yet," he laughed.

Cross was fairly certain that someday he'd have to write _A Daily Guide to the Many Faces of Mana Walker_. The world would certainly need it. He had seen about every face of Mana today: happy Mana, sad Mana, angry Mana, brotherly Mana, and now evil Mana. If this brat ever became an actor or even a clown Cross was certain he'd be very successful because of all those damn faces.

Sophia pulled Neah up out of the snow and began wiping the flakes off of his clothes. "We should go, Lord Neah. You'll catch pneumonia in weather like this," she said, her voice barely audible now over the wind.

"Plus the Lord Millennium is expecting you for Christmas dinner. He'll be suspicious if you keep him waiting," said the old man. Cross was amazed to hear Bookman speak, and even more surprised that the old man's voice sounded strong like it had been used before.

Neah nodded at Bookman and then looked over her shoulder at Cross and Mana. He bowed his head and the other two followed suit. With that Cross turned on his heels to walk back to Berlin with Mana. A bright light flashed behind them, but by the time he looked back Neah, Sophia, and the Bookmen had vanished. "Show off," he muttered, though he'd suspected from the beginning that Neah and the others had travelled there with the ark.

"So…" said Mana, looking back at him from up the road.

"What?" asked Cross. He didn't like the expectant look on Mana's face.

"It's Christmas. How about we go to a pub?" questioned Mana.

Cross groaned. "You're fifteen! You're going to be an alcoholic by the time you're twenty!" he exclaimed. "Do you expect me to be your drinking buddy whenever the occasion arrives? I think you're sorely mistaken!"

"Nonsense!" shouted Mana. "If I'm going to be an alcoholic juggler I might as well drag you down with me. Come on! Let's celebrate! I'll buy the first round!"

Mana turned on his heels and began whistling as he walked down the road, his gray scarf waving wildly in the breeze. "I'm surprised they even let you into a pub," grumbled Cross. Nevertheless he followed Mana all the way to Berlin and into a pub nearby the inn where the whole ordeal began.

**This is weird… I wrote a Christmas chapter in May… I thought a little fluff might lighten the mood, though. I was really excited to write the Mana and Neah exchange. Seems like Neah isn't the total brat he was as a child. Silly Cross, you're such a hypocrite (cue dramatic irony). What do you think Neah will do now? **

**Note: Sanjiv/Bookman Junior the First is an OC. From what I can tell from the series, Lavi is not Bookman's first apprentice and from the way Sheryl was talking it seems that the Noah had a hand in whatever happened to the last apprentice. There will be more Bookman and Sanjiv in later chapters!**

**Please review! The support is what keeps me writing! Also, if I get three reviews for this chapter, then I'll write a bonus chapter for the Earl's Christmas dinner. XD**


	9. Chapter 9: Once In Royal David's City

**I have returned, dearies! It seems that you guys really wanted to hear about Christmas Dinner. XD Alright, we shall have dinner! This chapter will see a change in point of view considering Cross will not be there. Let me know how you think I did with Neah! Warning: Jasdero and Devit have dirty mouths… you've been forewarned.**

**Disclaimer: I own a box of cereal and a handful of song lyrics, but not the rights of D. Gray-man.**

**Part Nine: Once In Royal David's City**

"_For He is our childhood's pattern;  
Day by day, like us, He grew;  
He was little, weak, and helpless,  
Tears and smiles, like us He knew;  
And He cares when we are sad,  
And he shares when we are glad._"

Cecil Francis Alexander

They were to dine at the Camelot's that night at 1800 hours. Road, of course, wanted him there an hour early. Neah truly wished that he had some other option, but he was betrothed. Even if the family had wanted Road to marry Mana, any chances of that had disappeared seven years ago with Rory.

By the time he had dropped the Bookmen off in Paris he had only an hour to prepare himself. Sophia had thankfully laid out his best suit earlier in the morning. He left his wet clothes in a heap on his bedroom floor, but then he thought better of it and laid them in a neat folded pile on his armoire. Neah Walker turned to look at himself in the full length mirror next to the door. From afar he looked ready to go, but up close his eyes looked slightly red and puffy. He frowned at himself.

There was a light tap on the door. Neah felt his stomach clench uncomfortably, afraid that one of his family members had come to ride with him to the Camelot's estate. However, when he opened the door he only saw Sophia holding a metal spoon.

"Press this over your eyes," she said, handing him the utensil. Neah gave her an odd look at this command. "Really, it will make the puffiness go away. It will also help with the bags under your eyes."

"Thanks," he mumbled. He took the spoon from her hand and pressed it lightly to his right eye.

"Didn't you sleep last night?" asked Sophia.

"Would you have slept if you were meeting your brother for the first time in seven years?" inquired Neah in response. She bowed her head in embarrassment. "You don't look much better. If anyone asks then say my mother kept both of us up. They should believe that."

"Yes, Lord Neah," she replied with a polite curtsy. "I shall fetch your mother now." Sophia left him alone with the spoon, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Neah looked in the mirror and saw that Sophia had been right. His face did look a lot better, much more like the dignified young Lord Walker. He pulled on his overcoat and then walked out of the doorway. As soon as he was in the hall, Neah opened a gateway to the ark. He left his bedroom door slightly ajar.

oOo

He was surprised to see that Camelot Manor was actually decorated for the occasion. Generally Uncle Sheryl chose to ignore the Christmas holiday, considering it was a holiday celebrating the religion of their enemy. However, today holly hung above the doorway as well as sprigs of mistletoe (Neah noted to be _very_ careful when entering rooms). On every window sill sat three candles: one pink, one white, and one purple. An akuma maid took his coat at the door and he moved to make way for his mother and Sophia.

"Neah, darling!" cried out Road from the top of the stairs. She wore an ivory short-sleeve gown with three tiers of fabric in the very wide skirt. The skirt was full of intricate designs and ruffles that made it seem larger than it already was. Neah was impressed that Road had even made it out of her bedroom. Now if she'd only fall down the stairs…

He wanted to strangle his inner Noah for thinking that last part. The voice was an ever-present part of hi s life since he had awaken, but he still often found himself appalled by the thoughts of the Noah of Destruction. Sure, he wasn't overly fond of Road, but he didn't want the night to be ruined by her falling down the stairs because of some stupid dress.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling around on the landing. "Francine made it for me! I don't think a human could make anything half as good! Am I not beautiful?"

The dress truly was beautiful, he admitted to himself, but Road had always been under the delusion that she was the most beautiful being on the face of the planet. Her face was not the most aesthetically pleasing, being very sharp and bony; her eyes dropped a little too much, giving her the impression of always being sleepy; and her hair… that was an entirely different disaster. Road was very vain when it came to her hair, and no matter what treatment she used her hair always remained limp and dull. He recalled that one day not four years ago he'd come to call on Road to find the girl running after a screaming Sophia with a pair of scissors, trying to cut off the poor servant girl's pretty raven curls. Luckily he had calmed Road down by calling Sophia's hair a rat's nest (he'd apologized in private later… he couldn't fathom why for Sophia was just a weak little human). Someday (hopefully soon) Road would wake up and realize that no matter what she dreamt up, she'd never be more beautiful than Aunt Lulubell. There was no competition when it came to the Noah of Lust.

Speaking of said Noah, Aunt Lulubell made her grand entrance at that point. She was in her Noah form today just like everyone else. Her long luscious hair tumbled down her back in neat ringlets. Golden cat-like eyes stared haughtily at every occupant in the room. Neah was not surprised to see her wearing a scarlet dress with skirts so wide that could have engulfed Road. The top of the dress clung tightly to her body, leaving little for anyone to imagine.

"Lovely as always, Lulubell," stated Uncle Sheril. He bowed and grabbed her arm in order to place a yearning kiss on the back of her hand. Neah rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Don't be too touchy; your _ward_ is at the top of the stairs," replied Aunt Lulubell, retracting her arm. Uncle Sheril gave a sheepish grin and turned to look at Road. Road was visibly flustered by her own 'grand entrance' being interrupted and overshadowed.

Uncle Sheril clapped his hands together and gave out a noise that oddly sounded like a squeal. "Doesn't my dear Road look lovely today! Francine really outdid herself this time!" he exclaimed. "Come down and greet our guests, Road dear. It would be a waste to stand up there all night."

Road huffed by gingerly climbed down the stairs to join Neah. She spared a glance over to the sitting room where Sophia was helping his mother sit down. "Why did you bring _her_ along?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"She's my mother," he responded gruffly. "I'm not just leaving her home."

"And Sophia, too! You know how I despise her," said Road. "You know Francine could have watched her."

"I'm not letting one of your akuma maids take care of Mother. They'll kill her," snapped Neah. He stormed into the dining room to wait for the others to arrived, Road calling pitifully after him.

Unfortunately, he walked right into Uncle Jasdero and Uncle Devit. "How's our favorite nephew?" inquired Uncle Jasdero while swishing wine around in a cocktail glass.

"Like you care," he grumbled. Neah Walker would be polite to Uncle Sheril and Aunt Lulubell despite all their flaws, but his patience always ran out for the two goofballs that made up Jasdevi.

"Someone having a bad Christmas?" taunted Uncle Devit.

"You guys don't even believe in Christmas!" Neah exclaimed. His two uncles looked at each other and then began to cackle maniacally. They clapped him on the back like he had just told the best joke in the world.

Thankfully, the dinner bell rang at that moment, so his _favorite_ uncles went to sit down. Neah took his customary seat at the right hand of Uncle Adam, the man giving him a wink when he entered. Uncle Adam was dressed in his favorite attire: his Millennium Earl suit. Neah thought it was very garish considering the large grin, for he honestly preferred the man's real face. Perhaps it was because he looked like his brother…

"So we have survived to see another year!" proclaimed Uncle Adam at the head of the table. His relatives gave a loud cheer. His mother and he only clapped. Sophia sat behind his mother with her best poker face on, but Neah could tell the poor girl was terrified. "And it's been a very successful year, I might add. The Crimean War is still going strong, and I must thank Skinn for seeing to it that the hostilities in Kansas boiled over!"

Uncle Skinn stood up and bumped into the table, causing it to rock a bit. He huffed and bowed to Uncle Adam to show his gratitude. His relatives clapped loudly (Uncle Jasdero and Uncle Devit began to hoot and holler).

"Now, let dinner be served!" exclaimed Uncle Adam.

Fourteen akuma maids carrying silver trays walked into the room and placed them on the table. They lifted the lids to display a very delectable looking meal. Neah saw the maid closest to his mother begin to lean towards her hungrily.

"Harriet! Either leave the room or self-destruct!" barked Uncle Adam. The maid straightened up and muttered a hurried apology before leaving for the kitchen. Neah breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful. The conversation was for once polite (it may have had something to do with the presence of his mother) and Uncle Skinn waited until dessert to start throwing things. Normally they'd only get to the soup and things would already be flying across the table.

"How are your studies coming, Neah?" asked Uncle Adam.

"Oh they're fine. Must I learn ancient Greek, though? It's truly dull," complained Neah.

"Hahaha," laughed Uncle Adam, placing a hand on his thigh. "I never really cared for the subject either. Why did you decide to study that?"

"Mother wanted me to," responded Neah.

"Then you should probably do as she says," said Uncle Adam. "Or at least pretend to be studying. Have you thought about maybe studying Chinese instead? It would be very difficult, but I think you could manage it."

"I'll give it a try," stated Neah. He had learned French, Italian, German, Spanish, and Russian easily. Learning Chinese might actually prove to be an interesting challenge, he thought.

"Tell me, my lord, but didn't you invite those Bookmen?" inquired Uncle Fiidora. He opened his mouth enough that Neah could see the parasites all over the man's tongue. Neah cringed at the sight.

"Yes, but Bookman said they had work to do," replied Uncle Adam sadly, digging his spoon into a giant piece of strawberry shortcake.

"That's a shame," sighed Aunt Lulubell. She batted her eyes. "I would have liked to have gotten better acquainted with them…"

Uncle Sheril gripped his fork so tightly that it began to bend. "Yes, isn't that a shame," he said through clenched teeth.

"It must be no fun being a Bookman," stated Uncle Tyki while swishing champagne around in his glass. "I'd want to _kill_ someone if I were locked up all day reading."

"You already do kill people, Tyki," chuckled Cousin Wisely. "I see you do it all the time."

"Have you been reading my thoughts again?" questioned Tyki, setting his champagne down angrily. "What have I told you about that, you little Cyclops?"

"Cyclops had one eye. I have five," responded Cousin Wisely while straightening his shirt cuff. "I would have thought that you would have known the difference by now."

Tyki growled dangerously.

"Go easy on him, Tyki," said Uncle Maashiima. "He's only a kid."

"Then why can't he behave more like Neah?" snapped Uncle Tyki.

"Not everyone is practically perfect like Neah," stated Uncle Maitora. He looked at Neah, but the boy didn't look up. Uncle Maitora always gave him the creeps- even more than Uncle Fiidora.

"I think he's perfect!" chimed in Road, making lovey-dovey eyes at him across the table. Neah decided it would be better to stare at faceless Uncle Maitora.

"You're too biased to properly look at him, Road," patronized Uncle Toraido. "If you would stop and think for a moment-"

Road sniffed and dug into her cake. Uncle Toraido looked directly at Neah and then went back to eating without continuing his train of thought. Suddenly Neah was very nervous. Uncle Toraido had appeared to be implying something. He wondered vaguely if he knew about his afternoon visit. That, however, seemed to be impossible. He'd only told the Bookmen and Sophia where they were going, and he knew that none of them would have compromised this information.

"Are you alright, Neah?" asked Uncle Adam. Neah was about to come up with an excuse for his behavior when he was interrupted.

"WHERE'S ST. NICHOLAS?" demanded a very drunk Uncle Jasdero.

"YEAH! WE WANT PRESENTS!" screamed Uncle Devit, his face also flushed in intoxication.

"You two are disgusting," sniffed Uncle Sheril, behaving very much like Road.

"YOU KNOW WHAT'S REALLY DISGUSTING?" inquired Uncle Jasdero. "YOU AND LULUBELL!"

Uncle Sheril's eyes seemed to turn red in an instant. "What did you just say?" he questioned.

"SHERIL AND LULUBELL SITTING IN A TREE! F-U-" sang Uncle Devit.

Before they knew it, Uncle Jasdero and Uncle Devit had several cuts across their faces. "I care for her as a brother!" bellowed Uncle Sheril. Road looked down at her lap, clearly embarrassed. "Don't you two go insinuating things in _my_ house!"

"Plus you all know I like Tyki better," added Aunt Lulubell. Uncle Tyki rolled his eyes and went outside to smoke.

"Brother, yeah right," muttered Cousin Wisely under his breath. Luckily, Uncle Sheril didn't seem to notice.

Uncle Skinn stood up and slammed his fists on the table. "I want ice cream!" he yelled.

"Skinn, just sit down," groaned Aunt Lulubell.

"This dinner wasn't sweet enough!" hollered Uncle Skinn.

"Be quiet!" snapped Uncle Toraido.

"I'm not getting _you_ ice cream," grumbled Uncle Sheril.

"I'd like some as well!" exclaimed Uncle Adam.

"Francine! Bring out the ice cream!" ordered Uncle Sheril.

"Suck up," mumbled Neah. Uncle Adam laughed at that remark.

"You're the only honest one, Neah," said Uncle Adam. "I really appreciate that."

"Thanks," stated Neah. He felt his spirits fall. He wondered what Uncle Adam would say if he knew about his visit to Mana… Neah didn't even want to think about it. He suddenly felt very dirty.

An orchestra of akuma began to play in the next room. "Neah! Let's dance!" cried out Road, running daintily around the table to take his hand.

"But I want ice cream…" he moaned. It was the first excuse he could think up.

"Come on!" shouted Road, now attempting to push him out of his chair.

"I should really dance with my mother first…" he stated.

"Just dance with the girl already!" proclaimed Uncle Maashiima. Neah pouted, but he let Road pull him away from the table into the next room.

It was beautifully lit and decorated just like the entrance hall. Boughs of holly were wrapped around the thin marble pillars in the room. Large French windows allowed for a lovely view of the snow-covered countryside. As he began to dance a waltz with Road, Neah allowd his mind to wander back to his brother. He wondered if Mana was having fun somewhere in Berlin. It sure had to better than a friendly dinner party. Mana had truly become whimsical in his time away from home. While seeing Mana angry had truly been frightening, Neah had been more scared by his newer playful side. The look on his face when he had 'surrendered' himself to Neah, and that kiss on the cheek…

The Mana he had known as a child would _never_ have kissed a girl on the cheek, much less a certain human servant girl.

"Neah! You stepped on my foot!" complained Road.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Neah saw that the adults had joined them in the ballroom and were now twirling about. He saw Sophia standing alone by the door, so he looked about for his mother. Mother although being supported was dancing gracefully with Uncle Adam, now in his normal form although he too sported the stigmata for the party. She appeared to be happy. Neah let a smile tug at his face. His uncle had always been kind to his mother.

"I'll admit, she really is remarkable for a human," said Road. She walked up beside him and leaned her head onto his shoulder.

"Yeah…" agreed Neah.

"If only Uncle Adam could find a way to turn humans! Then she could stay with us forever," she lamented.

And it seemed as if his mother in that moment became very small and that she was dancing among giants. Instead of his relatives Neah saw the faces of monsters waiting to consume the frail woman dancing benignly among them. He wanted to shiver, but he couldn't with Road so close to him.

"_You shouldn't care, Neah_," said the inner Noah inside his head.

But Neah knew that he did. As pathetic as his mother was, he still loved the woman. He didn't know her reasons for being among the Clan of Noah- he had honestly never thought to ask- but now he really wanted to know why. He wanted to know more about this woman who had thrown herself willingly into the lion's den.

Neah felt himself snap back into reality when Uncle Devit ran into the room with a pair of deer horns tied to his head.

"LOOK! I'M A REINDEER!" he bellowed.

Uncle Jasdero joined him, but he wore a red cloak and a pointed hat looking much like the pope's hat. "AND I'M ST. NICHOLAS! HERE I AM TO BRING PRESENTS TO ALL THE GOOD LITTLE CHILDREN AND BEAT ALL THE BAD ONES!"

With that he pulled out a whip and began to chase Uncle Devit around the room. His family began to laugh, but it sounded more like an evil cackle to Neah. He began to wish that he were somewhere else than at this mockery of a Christmas party.

He felt bad for thinking this. Neah knew that his family truly wanted to spend time together, and even his mother had been looking forward to this special occasion. Most mornings it was impossible to get her out of bed, but today she stood next to Uncle Adam, looking years younger. She looked like the mother he had lost seven years ago.

Plus there was Uncle Adam. He had always looked up to the man, and Neah was fully aware that his uncle had a soft spot for him. Neah wanted to make the man happy and proud, but he also wanted to have his brother's respect. It was easy to tell that Mana thought very little of Uncle Adam or anyone in the family for that matter. After having spoken to his brother that afternoon Neah felt… different somehow. It wasn't that he was acting any differently, but something inside of him seemed to be different. Normally he was very apathetic about whatever his family did during their get-togethers. Today, however, he was _feeling_. It wasn't a good feeling. In fact, he was pretty pissed at how his family was behaving.

Neah had been raised to be a gentleman, a noble meant to rub elbows with Great Britain's elite. His family might act like they belonged among the aristocracy, but tonight they were just as disgusting as any poor man- perhaps even worse. Even poor men on Christmas spent it more somberly, sitting on a bar stool in some dingy pub singing carols or surrounded by their family.

Perhaps he didn't belong with the Clan.

Neah almost turned white from shock. He'd never thought about _not_ belonging. He had been born a Noah. But so had his brother. Mana had decided to turn his back upon this bizarre family. Would he be capable of doing that?

"We're taking a family photo now!" announced Uncle Adam. Everyone filed out into the sitting room, Road dragging Neah again by the hand.

"Sit next to me, Neah!" exclaimed Road.

"Come now, Road. Let the boy have some air," chided Uncle Adam. She pouted but did as he said.

"Thanks," said Neah gratefully.

"Don't mention it," stated Uncle Adam with a wink. "If we left Road to her own devices, you would have been smothered by now."

Neah genuinely laughed at that remark. "That's true," he agreed. "Perhaps if she had something to do, she might not be so… overbearing. She's cooped up in this house all the time by Uncle Sheril, and she only gets out to visit me. It must be boring sitting here all day."

"That's why I'm going to let Road start using her abilities for the war," said Uncle Adam. "She's thirteen now. It's about time that she starts helping the family. You as well, Neah."

Neah felt his face brighten. He had heard stories from Uncle Tyki about the great works that he did for Uncle Adam to help bring an end to the war. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," replied Uncle Adam. He patted the seat next to him. "Right now, though, we have a photograph to take."

Neah sat down to his uncle, completely forgetting his earlier inner turmoil. He could think about 'other sides' and such nonsense later whenever he found time alone. "I'm glad," he said. "Then I'll really be by your side fighting this war."

"Stop chattering people! I need to smoke!" snapped Uncle Tyki. "Let's just get this over with."

"Why am _I_ next to these two…" moaned Uncle Sheril. Uncle Jasdero and Uncle Devit were swaying in their spot on Uncle Sheril's left, grinning like mad men.

"Lighten up, Sheril!" slurred Uncle Jasdero.

"We're a HAPPY family," continued Uncle Devit.

Francine ducked her head under the black camera cloth. "Smile," she said in a very metallic voice. Neah mustered up the best smile that he could. He would have to do his best to enjoy his family's presence for now.

**Okay, so that's my take on a Noah family Christmas. XD Got to say, I had fun with Sheril, Jasdero, and Devit. I thought that little bit of family drama might add something, considering that Sheril is the Noah of Desire. Plus, while the characters are similar, I didn't want them to be _exactly_ the same as their future counterparts. **

**Anyhow, sorry it took so long to write. I has a summer job! I'm also working on another project with the Polka-Dotted Sock (to all her fans: Sorry I monopolize all of her free time. It will be worth it in the end!). If you'd like to know more about it, then feel free to private message us!**

**Please let me know what you think! If I totally butchered this, then let me know. Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10: Taeuschung

**Alright, and now we're back to the main plotline. XD I want to give thanks to I'm too lazy to log in for reviewing… I'm sure you know who you are. XD As for your question, I am intending to follow the story line as closely as possible (I had to do a bunch of math and research on old technology to figure it out). That's why I'll occasionally use quotes from the manga. Thank you to WillowC1 for reviewing and putting this story on her alert list, too! Also thanks to CrescentSnow for the favorite and kagehi for the favoriting the story and putting it on her alert list!**

**Oh dear... accidentally uploaded this to my Harry Potter story first. XD  
**

**Disclaimer: Nein.**

**Part Ten: Täuschung**

"_I see a flickering guiding light_

_To left and right, now here, now there._

_I'll follow this light, though I know_

_It will mislead and tease me._"

Wilhelm Müller

Cross decided not to think back upon the meeting under the willow tree for quite some time. First off, he didn't want to become too involved in Neah's affairs. The boy was, after all, officially part of the Clan of Noah. He had had enough of those weirdoes for a lifetime. Second, he didn't want those damn Bookmen looking for him again. It was bad enough that they'd found him once. All he really wanted was to be uninvolved in the messed up lives of the Clan and all their associates.

It was too bad that the other side caught up with him: The Black Order.

oOo

After four months of not hearing anything from Neah or seeing anything related to the Clan, Cross finally felt the sense of impending doom lift from his shoulders. They had been pretty lucky, perhaps too lucky. He knew from seeing Lord Adam's guise as the Millennium Earl that most people did not survive a meeting with a Noah. The circus had left Berlin long ago to move onto a Sicily. There were rumors flying among the performers about Mr. Ziegler considering offers abroad, most likely in Egypt or the United States. Cross really didn't care where they went as long as increased the distance between the circus and his childhood residence tenfold. He thought it might even be fun to get out of Europe. Ziegler's Circus had toured every country at least once if not twice. A new locale might be all he needed to forget all about Neah. He'd have to write Mana, of course, but he was sure the boy would understand. Cross thought that Mana would possibly consider coming. He was sure that Mana would get a kick out of trading in a bazaar or flirting with some American girl.

It would be hard getting in touch with Mana early, though. He knew that he was meeting a circus in Greece, but he didn't even know the name of the troupe. His best bet would be searching through every newspaper he could find and hope that the circus put an add out before leaving.

It wasn't a very good strategy in the end. He found nothing, so he moved on to looking at international newspapers. Cross knew the basics of many languages- he could only speak a handful semi-fluently- but one he never bothered to learn was Greek. Sure, Ziegler's Circus had toured there before, but the stay had not been that long. Plus Greece was under control of the Great Powers after gaining independence from the Ottoman Empire, so speaking English, French, or Russian was just as good when dealing with the city officials. He couldn't read the Greek script, and the pictures surely were not helping.

One day as he sat in a café grumbling over a copy of EMPROS he saw a picture that looked like a tent. A large paragraph of text was next to it containing details for the advertisement. It came from a late January issue of the newspaper, which would have placed it in the correct window of time. There was still the language barrier issue.

"Shit," he mumbled. His only possible lead was sitting in front of him on the tiny round café table, and he couldn't even understand it. He doubted that anyone in the café would be able to help him either.

"I take it that you don't read Greek," said a man's voice. Cross was about to speak up when the newspaper slid off the table. He looked up to see someone sitting across from him at the table with his face hidden behind the paper. Cross thought that this guy had some nerve. "It was the advertisement with the tent, yes?"

"Yes," replied Cross. After thinking for a moment he realized that he was in the middle of Sicily speaking English with some stranger. "How did you-"

"Auburn hair is practically nonexistent in these parts. You stick out like a sore thumb," interrupted the man. "I'm afraid I don't fare much better in that aspect. By the way it's a circus advertisement for Cirque d'Gravois. They should be in the countryside around Venice now."

"Thanks," responded Cross reluctantly.

He wanted to take it back when the man folded up the newspaper. He recognized the red hair and heavy-lidded eyes immediately.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he growled at Bookman Jr.

"Keep it down. You'll just attract attention speaking like that," stated Junior. "Your enemies could very well be around."

"Well, if they see you sitting here talking to me, wouldn't that make them your enemies too, Junior?" he inquired quietly but bitterly. He had been pretty sure he'd finally lost those Bookmen.

"First off, call me Sanjiv when we're out in normal society," lectured the red-head. A waiter came up to the table with some sort of coffee drink and Sanjiv- damn him- addressed the man in flawless Sicilian. The waiter smiled and walked away. "Not many people know about Bookmen, and you are to keep it that way. Second, I'm the only one here. Not even Bookman knows that I'm in Sicily right now."

"If no one knows, how did you manage to come here?" asked Cross. "I would have thought that Neah dropped you off."

"Neah is preoccupied at the moment, as are all of the Noah," said Sanjiv. "I was in Reggio di Calabria to deliver something for Bookman when I saw an advertisement for Ziegler's Circus, so I thought I'd come see you."

"Why?" questioned Cross, honestly curious.

"Because you're much more interesting than the Noah," replied Sanjiv. Cross raised an eyebrow at this comment. "I already know pretty much everything there is to know about them, you and Mana, on the other hand, are a new addition to my log."

"Your log?" inquired Cross.

"My job is to document the war. Weren't you paying attention to Neah? Bookman pretty much has the entire Noah family down. It would be boring if I just kept repeating his logs. I may only be his apprentice, but I can tell that it's more important to watch you and Mana," stated the red-head. "You two are part of this war."

Cross gripped the tiny table between him and leaned forward to look Sanjiv directly in the eyes. "I am _not_ part of whatever crazy game that they are trying to play," he seethed. "You can forget about writing about me in your books because I don't _want_ to be involved nor am I going to _become_ more involved than I already am. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be going."

He stood up and began to walk out of the café. "Suit yourself," he heard Sanjiv mutter under his breath. "No matter what you do, Cross, this war will find Gitano. It's much too late for anyone to leave the stage."

Cross had half a mind to go back and punch the red-head in the teeth, but decided it would be better to take a leaf out of his book and show no reaction. He left the café.

oOo

When we returned to the circus grounds he found Jacqueline and Matilda gossiping with great enthusiasm. He almost made it past them without them noticing, but the creaky door on his trailer alerted them to his presence. Cross decided immediately that he was buying oil for the stupid door whenever he next went to town.

"Cross!" shouted Jacqueline, waving him over. He put on his most polite smile, shut the creaky door behind him, and walked over to the two ladies. "Did you see them?"

"Who?" he asked. He honestly had no idea what Jacqueline was talking about.

"You really are unobservant," said Matilda. "They were all over the main square."

"I didn't go through the main square," replied Cross. "It's market day- way too many people for my tastes."

"Well, it's better that you didn't go there then," stated Jacqueline, eyes alight with excitement. "They shut the market down and everything! I couldn't even go to the liquor store!"

"Who is they?" he inquired once again, truly curious now. "I can't read minds."

"That's a shame," responded Matilda.

"It would add more to your act," remarked Jacqueline.

Cross groaned and began to walk away. He didn't have time for guessing games or other nonsense. The show was starting in an hour, and he was pretty early in the line-up. "It was more of those fellows from the Black Order," Matilda finally elaborated.

He stopped in his tracks. "Really? Do you have any idea why?" he questioned. Cross really hoped it was something trivial like they were just passing through, but the damn red-head brat's words kept going through his brain. _No matter what you do, Cross, this war will find Gitano_. He vaguely wondered if Sanjiv knew that the Order was there. Was it possible they were looking for him? Cross was pretty sure he'd done just about everything to stay off their radar after the akuma incident in Austria. Though it was possible they had found out about his life before, about Gitano's life…

He really hoped they hadn't found out about his childhood.

His fears were put to rest when Jacqueline elaborated. "They're looking for some special substance. I can't remember what it's called. Anyhow this guy in a long khaki coat came and asked us if we had seen anything weird occurring, so we told him that we were from out of town," she said. "He seemed disappointed, but he told us to look out because it could be that special-substance thingy."

"Oh," he replied. "Well I'm sure it's none of our business anyways. If you two don't mind I need to prepare for the show. See you both afterwards."

"Knock 'em dead!" they shouted at his retreating back.

oOo

When he was walking around later that night, he heard loud voices coming from Mr. Ziegler's trailer. Cross was about to walk away when he notices that there were a lot of people in tan coats around the trailer. He recognized them instantly from Jacqueline's description earlier in the day. These men were with the Black Order. Much like other occasions, he went against his better judgment and hid in the shadows of the trailer.

"According to all the reports we've gathered in town, there were no odd incidents before Ziegler's Circus came to town," said a low, gruff voice.

"If zat ist true, zen it ist entirely a coincidence," snapped Mr. Ziegler. "I'm not letting you tear through my performers' personal property, Herr Khanna."

"I don't think you understand, Mr Ziegler," replied the man. Cross was pretty sure the man was the very condescending. He couldn't even see the guy's face, but he hated him already. "If the townspeople think that your circus is behind the strange creature tracks that appeared in town recently, then I'm required to investigate. I could get an official warrant from the local police or the Pope if you'd like."

Mr. Ziegler began cursing under his breath in German. "Verdammt! Fine, you may search, but I require zat I may address my performers before you begin," spat Mr. Ziegler.

"Alright, I'll give you half an hour," stated Khanna. "I begin my search after that."

oOo

"There is no way I'm allowing them into my trailer," said Latham blankly. The entire troupe was gathered in the big top, many people still wearing their costumes from the show. "They'll just go messing things up!"

"Why do they even think we're connected to whatever creature this is?" inquired one of the acrobats. "Sure we've got all these animals, but I think we'd notice if one of the elephants went for a stroll."

"Let me have a look at the tracks," demanded Bjorn the animal tamer. "I'd be able to recognize them in a heartbeat if they belonged to one of ours."

"Herr Khanna already had a team of scientists here to look at ze tracks," responded Mr. Ziegler. "He said zey don't belong to any normal creature."

"Well we don't have any of those," stated Jacqueline. "How is this even related to their search for watchamacallit?"

"Innocence?" inquired Mr. Ziegler. Cross recognized the term from all the dinner conversations back at Walker Manor and from the exorcist Kevin Yeegar's swinging pendulums during the akuma attack in Austria. "I have heard many stories from my Oma as a small child about zis Innocence. It's said to be a powerful substance zat can vanquish evil spirits. Innocence generally takes on strange forms. In this case it appears to transform into some sort of creature."

"So one of our animals?" asked Matilda.

Mr. Ziegler mumbled something under his breath and turned a bright shade of pink. The performers looked at him inquisitively as he removed his cap and began ringing the fabric in his hands. "Ze Innocence normally takes on two forms: one ist of a veapon und ze ozer ist of some sort of attachment to a body part," he continued.

Cross suddenly thought of Rory and his misshapen, bright red arm. It had been a while since the small missing child had come to the forefront of his mind. True, he kept his ears open for any news, but it was hard to spend time actively looking for the child. He was, however, quite certain of the point Mr. Ziegler was trying to make. "They think one of us is transforming into this creature," he said.

Mr. Ziegler nodded his head sadly. "Zat ist right," he stated.

There was a great uproar amongst the troupe. "This is ridiculous!" shouted Jacqueline.

"Sure, we might be freaky, but that doesn't mean we're actually animals," hollered Bjorn, his face turning red.

"Those stupid, superstitious townspeople!" snapped Latham. "It could just as easily be one of them."

The manager put two fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle, causing the troupe to settle down. "I know zat you are all very upset right now, und you have every reason to be so," remarked Mr. Ziegler. "However, I zink it ist best zat ve comply by zeir vishes. Ze sooner ve let zem search, ze sooner zey vill go away. Zen zey can search ze town, und ve vill see who's right."

The performers grumbled, but agreed in the end to allow the search. Cross went back to his trailer to prepare it, though he was sure any preparations would be thrown against the wall or on the floor or just made a complete mess. He made sure to secure several potions he had made for practice. It would be bad if Khanna and whatever search team he had started throwing _those_ on the floor. Then again, it might be funny to see what they would say once they sprouted feathers or rabbits came out of their ears.

He ended up being very lucky, for one of the men in the khaki coats came to search his trailer. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything," apologized the man. He was short, olive-skinned, and wore a clean gauze patch on his left cheek.

"Not at all. Just cleaning up a bit," replied Cross. He moved aside to let the man in.

"There wasn't anything out of the ordinary that you were cleaning up, was there?" questioned the man.

"No," responded Cross, doing his best to remain civil. "I was just putting away a few chemicals. Didn't want the search team to hurt themselves." He kind of wished that they would at this point.

"Alright," said the man. "What's your name?"

"People just call me Cross," he stated. He'd keep Gitano to himself.

"Just Cross?"

"Just Cross."

"Odd name," remarked the man. "I'm called Lazzaro."

They sat for a while in silence as Lazzaro searched through a couple trunks. "So they said some kind of tracks keep appearing around town," said Cross. He was hoping to glean some more information from this guy.

"Yes," responded Lazzaro. "A local priest called them in. My team responded after we heard that the creature broke through a ship's hold to steal some food. The door had been ripped off after the creature warped the padlock."

"Has anyone actually seen the creature?" inquired Cross.

"No," sighed Lazzaro. "All we know is that it has five digits on each appendage. That's why we thought it might be someone transforming. Now where were you earlier this afternoon before the show?"

"In a café," Cross said. "And no, I didn't have any lapses in memory. I can give you the receipt if you'd like."

"Khanna might wish to see it," admitted Lazzaro. "He always doubts things until there's no other explanation."

Cross gave him the receipt. "Will that be all?" he asked.

"Yes, it proves that you were not in the market earlier today," replied Lazzaro. "Some poor baker had his storehouse broken into during the time you were in the café. I'll be going now. Thank you for complying with our search." Lazzaro gave a cheery little wave and left his trailer. As soon as Cross couldn't hear the man's footprints he pulled on his coat and left out the back door.

oOo

It didn't take long to find the storehouse. The crime scene was roped off, but there were no police surrounding the building. Cross ducked under the rope to look around the storehouse. There were bags of flour spilled all over the floor. This normally would have meant that there would be plenty of tracks, but appeared as if the local police and the Black order had effectively erased all evidence with their own footprints.

It looked like the creature had turned the entire place inside out. Every bin was upturned with its contents on the floor mixed amongst the flour. The damage seemed to stop at the floor level. All the windows were intact as well as the front door. He couldn't say the same for the back. There was a huge hole in the back wall that stood approximately four meters high. Either the creature could pack a powerful punch, or it was gigantic. Cross was afraid that he would have to assume the latter. This punch, however, seemed to be directed outside, for all the debris from the wall laid on the back lawn.

Seeing as he could find no foot prints here he decided to move his search outside to the debris-laden yard. He was about to leave the storehouse when he noticed something strange. Despite the place being a storehouse for a bakery, it appeared that the creature had left most of the bread related products. The only empty bins he found were those for dried fruits.

He left through the hole in the wall and immediately found what he was looking for: the tracks. Cross had almost been hoping that they were human tracks. It wasn't that he wanted it to be one of his fellow performers or the townspeople. He was hoping the prints would belong to a small seven-year old boy…

These prints, however, were much too large to be human. They appeared to be about a meter wide with each digit being as thick as the length of his feet. Lazzaro was right about them having five digits. He walked along the trail to examine how the creature walked. After a couple repetitions, Cross could tell that the creature walked on four feet- sort of. The front feet were not shaped quite right. If he had to guess, he'd have to say that the tracks left by the front feet looked like the imprints of fists.

The last thing he knew, Rory walked on two feet. This appearance of Innocence was not him either. Slightly disappointed, Cross returned to the circus grounds.

Khanna and his men were nowhere in sight, so he assumed that they must have finished their search. It seemed that everyone was staying inside tonight, perhaps out of fear of not having an alibi tomorrow morning. The only noise came from around the animal pens. When Cross walked past, he saw Bjorn sitting on a barrel feeding a tiny monkey.

"You've got quite the appetite, little fellow," said the animal trainer. The monkey finished gnawing on a piece of apple. "Alright, now in you get." Bjorn walked back inside the monkey tent to put the tiny monkey to bed for the night.

Cross continued walking towards his trailer. As he walked past Mr. Ziegler's trailer, the door banged open. A tall dark-haired Indian man walked out of the trailer. He wore a long black coat with silver trim bearing the rose cross on the front, white gloves, and carried a curved sword. The man stormed past Cross without a word. Lazzaro exited the trailer and started to run to catch up with the man. He stopped when he saw Cross.

"Hello again," stated Lazzaro. "I suppose you've seen Khanna now."

"Friendly fellow," drawled Cross sarcastically. "Absolutely charming. I suppose you didn't find anything."

"That's correct," sighed Lazzaro. "We must get back to town now so that we can start searching there."

"I'm sure the townspeople will be happy," said Cross. "Good luck with that."

"Lazzaro," commanded Khanna. "We don't have time to be wasting here."

"Of course! Sorry sir!" apologized Lazzaro. He ran off to where the exorcist was waiting. The man turned back to yell at Cross. "If you see anything odd, then let us know."

Cross gave a wave and then returned to his trailer. It was just as he left it- a mess thanks to Lazzaro's search. He began to pick things up to restore some sense of order. Cross thought about what he had seen that day. Even if they did find the creature, it would be hard to catch, considering its size. He wondered if Khanna, Lazzaro, and the others had thought of that. Then again, they might have been preoccupied with the common knowledge that Innocence attracts akuma. He knew that quite well from the stories Lord Adam had told at the dinner table. Cross really didn't want any more encounters with akuma.

There was one big problem: the debris from the hole in the storehouse wall was sprawled outside, which meant the creature created the hole escaping the premises. That meant that it somehow got inside without creating another entrance. The thing sure must have been small to get in without being noticed…

It hit him suddenly. The idea was crazy, but there was a slight possibility. He ran outside to go look for Khanna and Lazzaro. They were just outside the entrance when he got within earshot.

"Hey!" he hollered. The two men turned back.

"What do you want kid?" asked the exorcist.

He had half the mind to turn back, but decided to continue being helpful. It would get the Black Order people to leave sooner, and he sure didn't want them hanging around. "Monkeys," he breathed. "Did you take a look at the monkeys?"

"I'm not here to look at the petting zoo," replied Khanna coolly.

"Your creature walks on four legs, has five digits, eats fruit, and is very small when not transformed," stated Cross. Lazzaro seemed surprised that he knew all this stuff. "It also leans on its front appendages when walking. I'm not an expert, but to me it sounds like a monkey."

"But monkeys are not accommodators or equipment," trailed Lazzaro.

"Maybe this time is the exception," responded Cross.

"This is completely ridiculous," grumbled Khanna, running gloved fingers through his hair. He walked back towards Cross. "This better be worth my time. Take me to those stupid monkeys."

oOo

He was almost sorry that he took them to the monkeys. First off, Bjorn was very reluctant to let them see his precious animals. Second, Khanna seemed to be in an even fouler mood because of the chattering mammals. Third, he had to admit, the idea seemed dumb at the moment. Ziegler's Circus didn't even have a gorilla. They only had tiny trained monkeys that rode around on scooters and tricycles while wearing bright tiny clown suits. He kind of doubted that any of them could actually grow large enough to make a four meter tall hole.

"How many monkeys are there?" asked Lazzaro wearily.

"Bjorn said there were thirty," stated Cross.

It was a good thing that the animal trainer stayed outside, for Khanna started poking at the animals with a twig. "Well we better start looking," he said.

"We?" inquired Cross.

"It was your stupid idea, so you might as well help," snapped the dark-haired exorcist. "Now start bothering them. If one of them is truly the Innocence, then it will probably transform under pressure."

"That might not be a good idea, sir," mumbled Lazzaro.

"What was that?" questioned Khanna.

"I'm on it, sir," replied the short man.

It took a while to work through the cages. After several scratches and even more bites, they had gone through all the monkeys.

"What a joke," grumbled Khanna, shooting Cross a bitter look. "I suggest going back to your day job. We're leaving Lazzaro."

Cross decided that he really hated the condescending dark-haired exorcist. It probably wasn't even his fault. When was prodding monkeys ever a good idea? The method was what was wrong, not the theory. He was about to shout at the exorcist, when he heard a loud explosion in the distance followed by several gunshots. Everyone in the tent stiffened up.

Khanna was the first to run outside to examine the scene. Everyone else in the troupe had opened their doors to see what was happening. Over the town hovered what must have been fifteen akuma, all firing bullets down towards the fleeing townspeople. "Lazzaro, get in touch with the unit," barked Khanna. "I want them to get as close to the town as possible without getting hit. Tell them to activate their Talismans. Once you've finished, start evacuating this circus and the townspeople that come out this way. I'm going ahead."

"Yes, sir!" replied Lazzaro. He immediately reached for a small portable lamp in his large bag and began flashing it in the sky in some sort of pattern. Khanna ran off through the woods. Mr. Ziegler began to bark out orders for the evacuation. He wanted to take anything highly portable along. The big top, unfortunately, would be left behind. He sent the animal trainers to start preparing the elephants.

"Cross!" shouted Bjorn. "Do you have room in your trailer to keep a couple of the monkeys?"

He really didn't want to be travelling with a couple noisy, smelly monkeys, but he really didn't have much choice. "A bit," he admitted.

"Could you take five of them then?" asked the animal trainer. "Jacqueline will lend you one of her horses to move the trailer."

"Alright," said Cross. He doubted that they would let him take his trailer if he didn't carry the damned monkeys that failed him earlier. He went inside the tent holding the monkey cages.

The monkeys were all chattering wildly, clutching the bars, and gnashing their teeth, trying desperately to escape. He picked up a couple small cages and began the moving process. He made it back with four of the cages, but when he came back for the fifth one… something weird happened.

The fifth cage held the smallest monkey in the circus. Bjorn had recently acquired the little fellow on a visit to the mainland. When Cross reached out to pick up the cage, he saw that the door was already open and the monkey was not in sight.

"Great," he groaned as he spun around, looking for the tiny monkey. He finally spotted the little guy hiding in one of the back corners of the tent eating an apricot. "Come on! This isn't time for eating."

The monkey seemed to disagree. Once it finished its snack it began to glow a bright shade of white. Cross stumbled backwards into some crates. He heard fabric rip around him. "What the fu-" he began to shout, but stopped once he realized that the tiny monkey was no longer tiny. In fact, it was rather large and menacing at the moment. Thankfully, the monstrous monkey was not hungry for man-flesh, and it ran off towards the akuma battle.

Lazzaro ran into the now ruined tent. "What happened?" he inquired, helping Cross to his feet.

"T-the monkey just grew and ran off towards the town!" he exclaimed.

"The monkey _is_ the Innocence?" questioned Lazzaro incredulously. "Why didn't it activate earlier?"

"It probably didn't want to," replied Cross. He grabbed a different cage- one he hoped held your everyday standard performing monkey- and turned to leave. "Well, there you have it. Good luck with your mission."

"Wait Mr. Cross!" called Lazzaro. Cross stopped, not because he wanted to listen, but because he'd been called _Mr_. Cross. He'd never been Mr. anyone before. "The Innocence is still in great danger."

"Not my problem," he said. He did not turn to face Lazzaro. "Why don't you ask Khanna to help you? He seems like an obliging fellow."

"You see that he's no good with animals," sighed Lazzaro.

"And I'm not either," stated Cross. "Ask Bjorn then." An explosion sounded, even closer than the first one.

"Please!" begged Lazzaro. "You were the one to notice it first!"

"And what makes you think I'll be any more help than the next guy?" asked Cross. He finally turned to face Lazzaro and glowered. "I just want to take these monkeys and get the hell out of here."

"I don't know," admitted Lazzaro. "I've just got this gut feeling that you can help. I have a Talisman, so if we get into any trouble I can activate it. I'll even ask someone to take care of whatever job you'd been given for the evacuation! Please, just help me this once!"

Cross cursed under his breath. This guy was not making his life any easier, plus he kept hearing that damned Sanjiv's voice floating through his mind, telling him he couldn't escape the war. "Fine!" he snapped. "I'll go."

"Thank you!" exclaimed Lazzaro. He ran off to find someone else to rescue the monkeys. Cross went to examine the escaped monkey's cage. The name plate read _Lau Jimin_. At least he knew what to call the monster monkey now.

He then ran to Latham's trailer. The door was open, and the sharpshooter was nowhere in sight. Cross quickly scribbled down a message on a scrap of paper and grabbed the revolver he'd taken earlier that year when meeting Neah outside Berlin. He ran into Lazzaro at the front gate. The man was waving at several townspeople to direct them into the circus grounds.

"Everyone please remain calm!" he hollered. "Move as far back as you can in the circus grounds. A caravan will soon be leaving for the evacuation. Until then please form groups of twenty people so that the organization will be easier."

Another man in a khaki coat ran up to them. "You called me, Lazzaro?" inquired the man.

"Yes, David," said Lazzaro. "The Innocence has run off towards the battle. Seeing as Khanna is busy, I'm going after it. I need you to head the evacuation."

"Yes, sir!" replied David. He took the small lamp from Lazzaro and began directing the crowd.

Lazzaro ran off into the woods, Cross following close behind. It wasn't hard to find the path left by the giant monkey Lau Jimin. They hurtled over fallen trees and leaped over the giant footprints. Cross felt his coat snag a couple times but paid it no attention. Pretty soon they had reached the town. Cross was instantly reminded of the night of Pierrot's death. Almost every building in the town was ablaze and crumbling upon impact from akuma bullets. He raised his arm to cover his nose and mouth due to all the smoke billowing through the streets.

Lau Jimin was not hard to spot. Standing in the middle of the market square, the shrieking monkey threw one Level One akuma into another, causing them to explode. "What the hell?" Cross muttered under his breath. He could here Lazzaro muttering a prayer hurriedly under his breath in Latin.

"What are you two doing here?" demanded a low voice behind them. Cross turned to see Khanna standing behind them holding a scimitar. "I told you to head the evacuation, Lazzaro."

"We're after the monkey," said Cross before Lazzaro could bow down to his commander and apologize. "It's the giant one throwing akuma around right now."

Khanna glared at him. Any other man would have shivered, but Cross refused to give the exorcist that sort of satisfaction. "I can see, thank you," replied Khanna in a clipped tone. "I'm headed out there to take care of the rest of the akuma. As soon as the monkey shrinks, catch it. It should run out of energy soon, and then it will deactivate." The exorcist ran off, the curved blade of his sword beginning to glow. Cross lost sight of him as he ran around a corner, but pretty soon a long slash mark appear across one of the akuma, causing it to explode.

"Come on!" yelled Lazzaro over the noise. They ran through the smokey streets ducking for cover whenever an akuma floated by overhead. At last they reached the market square. Lau Jimin continued to smash akuma to bits, but not with as much gusto as before. Thankfully there were not as many akuma around, probably due to the monkey. Cross didn't want to give Costagna any credit in that front.

They crossed the market square to stand close to the monkey. "What do we do now?" inquired Cross.

"We wait," responded Lazzaro. "I don't exactly carry cages of this size." The man fished something else out of his giant bag. He pressed some buttons on the back of the glass and metal object. "Hold onto this. It's a Talisman. In case an akuma comes and tries to attack us we can freeze it with this."

Cross had to admit that it sounded very useful. There was one slight problem. Khanna was right about the monkey running out of energy and deactivating. They just had not expected it to be when there were several akuma still around. A Talisman could only capure one akuma at a time. When Lau Jimin returned to normal size, he looked around frightfully and then scampered behind Cross, grabbing his ankle tightly.

"Shit," he muttered. The akuma above them began to close in on them. Cross would say that they were almost smiling.

Lazzaro tensed up beside him and began to mumble what sounded like seven Hail Marys per minute. Cross, however, wasn't going to let Lazzaro, the now scared little monkey, or a Hail Mary decide whether he would live or not. He turned the knob on the Talisman up to what looked like full power and set it down in front of them. A warm cube of light expanded around them as the akuma began to fire.

Cross was pleasantly surprised to find that this Talisman held out against three akuma. Lazzaro looked up from his prayers and began to cry with joy, discovering that they were safe for the moment. All they had to do was wait for Khanna to come and fight the remaining akuma.

The exorcist, however, seemed to take his good old time arriving there. Cross was sure it must have been at least half an hour before three slash marks announced Khanna's arrival. The akuma exploded upon impact, showering oil all over the burning town, making to fires grow even larger. Khanna looked worse for wear. He was covered in scorch marks and specks of oil and blood. His shoulder-length hair was falling out of the short pony-tail he kept it in. He quirked an eyebrow when he saw their current arrangement.

"You used the Talisman on yourselves?" he inquired. Cross had a hard time deciding if the exorcist was amused or just being condescending like always.

"It can't exactly trap more than one akuma at a time," replied Cross. "That's a pretty serious technical flaw. It was much easier to trap our group inside than to run and trap various akuma while risking being shot."

"I thought it was a good idea," chimed in Lazzaro.

"Well, give me the deactivation code, Lazzaro," said Khanna. It appeared he also did not wish to acknowledge Cross' contributions to the battle. Cross decided that was fair, considering he'd only admit that Khanna destroyed the four akuma he had seen the exorcist destroy. He would credit the rest to Lau Jimin.

"Hail Mary," stated Lazzaro. Cross rolled his eyes. If any akuma had digits or was smart enough to listen, it would have been very easy to deactivate the Talisman. As soon as they were free from the Talisman, Lau Jimin tried to make a run for it. Cross grabbed the monkey by the tail to stop it.

"Here's your monkey," he said while handing it to Khanna. "If you both don't mind now, I'm going back to the circus."

He began to stalk off. "Wait!" shouted Khanna. Cross really hoped they were not going to ask him to take the monkey to Canada or some outrageous thing next. He'd had just about enough of the Black Order to last for the rest of his life. However, when he turned to address the exorcist, he was surprised to see the man looking somewhat… ashamed. "We're going back with you."

"Why would you-" Cross began to ask, but the exorcist grabbed his left arm with his free hand and dragged him along.

oOo

Cross didn't even recognize the Ziegler's Circus when he returned to the circus ground. The most striking thing was that there was hardly anything left of the circus- just a couple of poles where the big top used to stand and about four trailers. He could hear monkeys screaming in one of them and recognized it immediately as his own. "Another group of akuma came over the hill just as the first caravan was leaving," explained Khanna. "I'm afraid I didn't arrive in time."

There was a small group of about fifty survivors. He was dismayed to see that they were all unfamiliar faces. Cross assumed that Mr. Ziegler, Matilda, Jacqueline, Latham, Bjorn, and the rest of the troupe were among the many piles of ashes littering the ground. At least he now knew what had taken Khanna so long to arrive in the town square.

Several of the men in khaki coats were administering medical treatment to the injured. A little boy nearby Cross cried out as a man wiped out a severe burn on his cheek. Cross remembered the burn cream he had made recently. He carried it around in his right boot so that he'd have it ready if he were to need it after a show or while practicing. Kneeling down, he reached into his boot to find the cream still there.

Cross walked over to the little boy and the man in the khaki coat. "Allow me," he said. The man moved aside so that Cross could kneel in front of the little boy. He squeezed some of the cream onto his hand and began applying it to the boy's cheek. The boy stopped sobbing but continued to sniffle a bit. "Now don't touch it. This should help it heal more quickly." The child nodded and gave a tiny smile. Cross found himself administering more of the cream on many of the other survivors. In the end it was all gone, but the people looked a bit happier.

He went inside his trailer and removed the monkeys that had stopped screaming by now. As soon as they were outside Cross locked the door to keep out anyone who might bother him (mostly Khanna and Lazzaro). Not even caring enough to remove his clothes or wash up, he collapsed on the bed falling into a fitful slumber.

oOo

He surprisingly didn't dream of his now dead troupe, but of the damn dead golden wheat growing behind Walker Manor. It was odd since he was much taller now, though the wheat still reached to just above his waist. Cross heard a child laugh behind him. He turned but saw no one there.

"_Who are you_?" giggle the voice.

Cross tried to respond, but found that he had no voice.

"_Are you Gitano? I'm waiting for him, but you don't look like him_," stated the child.

Finally he found he could speak. "_Rory_?" he asked.

The voice giggled again. "_Come find me, Gitano_!" the child called

Cross tried to step forward, but felt himself hit an invisible wall. "_Not you_!" taunted Rory. "_Rhian sent my brother and Gitano. They are the ones who can find me. Only Mana and Gitano_."

"_But I am Gitano_!" protested Cross. He had great difficulty saying this.

"_I'm going to look for Mana_," said Rory. "_Let me know when you make up your mind on who you are_." Cross heard little feet running through the wheat although no ripples were made.

"_Rory_!" he cried out. Cross pounded his hands against the invisible wall. "_Rory come back! Don't leave me here alone_."

"_Don't be sad, Gitano_," stated Rory. "_I am coming back. I might look a little different, but you'll know it's me. Until then, please look out for Mana for me. He has always kind of been a loner. Also, don't forget to smile_."

He woke up suddenly after that and could still feel the tears coming out of his eyes. He slammed a fist against the bed and finally let himself weep for the friends he had lost.

oOo

Cross went outside early the next morning to see what could be salvaged on the circus grounds. The townspeople had already collected many things to set up camp nearby his trailer. He walked to where the big top used to be. Standing on the broken center platform he could see wisps of smoke rising from the town through the trees in the forest. The fires must have tapered out in the middle of the night.

"Not much you can do with a broken stage," said a voice behind him. Cross turned to see Khanna standing on the other side of the platform.

"I suppose not," agreed Cross. He was too tired to argue with the exorcist.

"What do you plan to do after this?" inquired Khanna, walking over to him.

"I don't know," replied Cross truthfully. "I'll start looking for another troupe to work for-"

"And wait for another akuma attack?" interrupted the exorcist. "You've been pretty lucky kid. I heard about this troupe from General Yeegar. You guys came under attack four years ago in Austria. You're a magnet for trouble."

Cross glowered at the floor. "What else would I do?" he asked. "I'm only good at wandering."

They stood there for a while in silence, watching the sun crawl its way over the horizon. "The salve you gave out for the burns last night worked very well," stated Khanna. "For a performer you make a fair scientist."

"Thanks," he muttered. Cross began to walk away. He wasn't really in the mood for chatting.

"How about joining the Black Order?" questioned Khanna. Cross stopped walking. "We're always looking for more scientists. It would be much more worthwhile than traipsing around the globe."

_Oh hell no_. There was no way he was going to join the Black Order. He had made it clear to Sanjiv just the other day that he had no intentions of becoming more involved with this war. "No thanks," he replied. "I'm fine with being your every day normal civilian."

Khanna frowned at him. "Trying to play difficult?" he questioned. "How about I put it this way: I saw you the other day in a café talking to a man from the Bookmen Clan. Only you and I know what this implies. The Black Order doesn't have to know about this either. Unless you want to be put in front of the Vatican court on trial for conspiracy with the enemy, I suggest you come."

Cross felt his mouth drop open. This man knew about the Bookmen and their current affiliation. He thought about it, looking for any possible loophole, but found none. He was screwed and that stupid exorcist knew it.

Khanna cracked a smile at him and then turned his back on Cross. "Lazzaro! Grab his things! The kid agreed to come with us!" he hollered. "Call ahead to Amaranta to let her know we're bringing a new recruit!"

"Hey! I didn't agree to anything yet!" bellowed Cross.

"But you don't have much of a choice, so just give in quietly now," remarked Khanna, grabbing him by the left arm again.

"Why do you want me to join so badly?" asked Cross.

"You're not a dimwit or a bigot like most of our recruits, plus you know the streets. I can't stand the university types," explained Khanna. "So much knowledge and they have no idea how to apply it."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" inquired Cross. "You can't just go blackmailing people into doing what you want."

Khanna stepped in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes. "I'm Indivar Khanna," said the exorcist, "and I don't care what you think about this war or the Black Order. You're coming with me to Rome either as a recruit, a prisoner, or a dead man. Take you pick."

Later in the day he boarded a boat bound for Rome with Khanna and the men he now knew were called Finders. It was in such a way that Cross found himself blackmailed into joining the science disvision of the Black Order's Central Headquarters. He could practically see Sanjiv dancing emotionlessly in front of his eyes saying "I told you so." Cross was determined to punch the guy in the teeth if he ever saw him again.

**Poor Cross. Too bad fate (and the manga) says that you have to become involved. That chapter lasted much longer than a I thought… I had to split the last part off because I spent too much time on the Innocence mission. XD Anyhow, now you guys know a bit more about Sanjiv. He'll definitely be back. Will Cross finally get any sort of reaction out of him or punch him in the teeth? We'll see later on…**

**Normally I update on Friday, but I didn't finish this until now… so Happy Memorial Day to those of you in the United States. Most of this was due to research for the chapter (no telephones in this era, so I researched walkie talkies and other communication devices- no dice. I ended up giving them a lamp to pass Morse code.) and watching clips of Ouran High School Host Club. If you want to know why (besides that the show is hilarious) please feel free to send me and the Polka-Dotted Sock a Private Message. Really it will explain our updating habits. XD**

**Anyhow, another part of the delay was that I invented about three different characters before I settled on Indivar Khanna. Him and his blackmailing ways kind of grew on me. Let me know what you guys think about him! He may also play a bigger role later in the story. The name of the Greek newspaper Cross was reading in the café came from a site with newspaper archives from the nineteenth century. Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11: Sing a Song of Sixpence

**Alright, we now have the stage mostly set. Cross is now officially a member of the Black Order, Neah is with the Clan of Noah, and Mana… well he's being Mana. Anyhow, I'd like to thank ilikedan for the favorite and the review. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the realm of D. Gray-man.**

**Part Eleven: Sing a Song of Sixpence**

"_Sing a song of sixpence,_

_A pocket full of rye._

_Four and twenty blackbirds,_

_Baked in a pie._

_When the pie was opened,_

_The birds began to sing;_

_Wasn't that a dainty dish,_

_To set before the king?_"

Tom Thumb's Pretty Song Book

Mana Walker was truly glad to have left the dark crowded city of Berlin. Sure, Venice was crowded and full of snobby tourists from the north, but the landscape was very beautiful. The canals cutting through streets of white stone buildings carved with rounded arches brought a kind of peace to him. It really was too bad that he had missed Carnevale. Many of his fellow performers said that he would feel like a native if he saw it- the crazy clothes, the painted masks, the party atmosphere… Just thinking about it brought a smile to Mana's face. That, in itself, was a very good thing. He always tried his best to smile whenever possible. This was especially true when he performed with a circus.

Mana had come across Cirque d'Gravois two years ago while travelling through Switzerland. The manager's daughter had become lost when the initial parade came through the city. He had not only brought her home safe, but even made her laugh all the way. After that Mana had travelled with them for five months before parting with them in Sarajevo. The troupe had tried everything to make him stay, but Mana insisted that he had other plans- mostly meeting a friend (his only friend) in the city. He supposed it would be nice to have a permanent troupe to travel and perform with, but he was a free spirit. Mana Walker was determined to see the entire world.

Plus there was always the issue of certain places and people… He avoided England like it was the plague and was always peaky when touring Austria. Ever since Christmas Day when Neah told him he had awoken, Mana was always worried that he might be next. It was a silly thought really. He couldn't even use any of the Noah abilities he had possessed before (he had been so proud the first time he caught a cold).

Luckily, he had met the Cirque d'Gravois again before coming to Berlin just in time to make arrangements for their latest tour through Greece and Italy. For the past few months his life had been fair weather and sunny days. In some ways Mana almost missed the rain that almost always accompanied northern Europe. It was one of those things you didn't realize until you didn't have it anymore. Perhaps he would travel north to Amsterdam or even Oslo next, he thought while flipping through the pages of an Italian newspaper on a street bench. Mana couldn't read the damn thing, but he could at least look at the pictures. Languages had never been his strong suit.

A picture of what looked like a fire ravaged town sat on the front page. He was pretty certain that it was too early for wildfires. It was, after all, only April.

"Mana!" called out one of his fellow acrobats, Nico. Mana smiled and wazed at Nico, gesturing for him to join him on the bench. Nico handed him a pastry. "Thought I might return the favor from the other day."

"Thanks, Nico," said Mana. He took the pastry and bit into it. "This is delicious! What's it called?"

"Zeppole," replied Nico. The acrobat took a glance at the newspaper Mana held in his other hand and tutted. "It's really a shame about what happened."

"What? The fire?" asked Mana while his mouth was full of pastry. "It is a shame. Hopefully everyone is alright."

"If only things had turned out that well," sighed Nico. "Not only did it get the whole town, but it got an entire circus, too."

Mana felt his smile falter at this mention. "How did a fire get all the way out there?" he inquired.

Nico looked around to see if anyone was listening. "Some people are saying it wasn't a normal fire," he whispered. "Normally I'm not one to believe such rubbish, but a friend of mine told me that the Black Order was involved somehow. Could have been a demon or something."

Mana almost choked on his last bite of pastry. "The Black Order?" he questioned. He had thought that they were a secret organization. Mana supposed that if you tried to keep something a secret for so long- let's say almost 7000 years- it was bound to come out eventually. Apparently almost everyone knew something about the Black Order. "Well I suppose it must not have been normal then."

"Indeed," agreed Nico. "Well, the only good thing is that we don't have to compete with Ziegler's anymore. They were supposed to travel up this way for a bit before ending their European tour."

"Ziegler's?" exclaimed Mana. He leaned forward towards Nico on the bench, golden eyes now very wide. "Did you say Ziegler's Circus?"

"The one and only," responded Nico gravely. "Why does that have your panties in a knot, though?"

"I have a friend who has been touring with Ziegler's for the last seven years," explained Mana hurriedly. He shoved the newspaper into Nico's face. "Can you read this for me and tell me if anyone from Ziegler's survived?"

"I already told you what it said," stated Nico while pushing the newspaper out of his face. He gave Mana a worried look. "I could see if anyone in town knows anything."

"Thanks," replied Mana. "I would really appreciate it."

"Anytime, Mana," said the acrobat. He stood up and walked away.

Mana picked up the newspaper again to look at the front page. The scene did not look good, and if his suspicions about akuma were correct, then the chances of Cross- Gitano… his only friend- being alive were pretty slim. And here he was sitting on a park street bench in the middle of beautiful Venice enjoying his life while Git might be a tiny pile of ashes among other piles of ashes. He felt like he should do something, but he could do very little because of the language barrier.

Mana didn't know anyone in Sicily that he could contact to check the Git to see if he was still alive. His contract with Cirque d'Gravois wouldn't end for another two weeks. He wouldn't be able to focus for two weeks if he didn't know what happened to his friend. If only… no. No matter what, he could not contact his brother. He especially could not ask for favors like having him check on Gitano or take _him_ to Sicily. Their family would surely find out. Mana thought about it a bit more. Those Bookmen, on the other hand, were free agents. Perhaps if he contacted them- maybe offered up a little money- they would go to Sicily. Neah probably wouldn't ask why- they wouldn't tell him anyways- so the Bookmen could get to Sicily…

He didn't know their telegraph number. The Git had been the one to call them to arrange the meeting outside Berlin. If only he had paid more attention, then he might have known the number such an occasion…

He was going to have to do something… Maybe if he told the Black Order all he knew… They'd probably kill him afterwards, though. But perhaps this was what friendship was truly about: being willing to do anything for your friends. His betraying his family to the Black Order, however, wouldn't be about Gitano. It was about not being alone.

Mana knew he was down to two options: going to Sicily or actively searching for the Bookmen. He was about to go find the manager when he heard someone speak out from behind a tree. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the voice said. He whipped around and saw Bookman Junior come out from behind the tree and lean against it. "Losing four months pay would be quite a dozy."

Mana let his eyes narrow at Junior. He didn't care at the moment if he came off as a complete ass. Here he was worried about not being able to find the guy or his master, and he shows up _spying_ on him! "What do you care?" he snapped. "And how the hell do you know how long I've been with this troupe?"

Bookman Junior raised a lazy eyebrow, his eyes becoming slightly less droopy. "Hmm… let's see… I saw Cirque d'Gravois' advertisement in EMPROS."

"What the hell is EMPROS?" asked Mana.

"A Greek newspaper," replied Junior. He looked up at the leaves of the tree above him. "I believe I was talking to a certain auburn-haired git when I was reading-"

"You spoke Git?" inquired Mana. "When was it?"

Bookman Junior stared at him for a moment. "You know, I thought you were joking when you called him 'Git' back in Berlin. You really call him that?" questioned Junior. "You should really call him by his stage name- Cross- if you want to remain hidden."

Mana could care less about the technicalities right now. "When did you speak with him, Junior?" he demanded.

"Cross and you are both so bad at this," sighed Bookman Junior. He pulled on one of the lapels of the navy jacket he wore today. "Just call me Sanjiv. 'Junior' makes me feel like I actually have to care about the old geezer."

"Fine, _Sanjiv_, when did you speak with him?" inquired Mana for the third time. He didn't bother to be polite. Mana Walker was very pissed off at the moment, so he would be as grumpy and difficult as he wanted to be.

"Seven days, four hours, and thirty-two seconds ago," responded Sanjiv without even looking at a pocket watch. Any other day Mana would have been impressed, but the fact that it had been _seven_ days ago instead of _six_…

"That was before the attack," grumbled Mana. He sat back down on the bench and put his head in his hands.

"You want to know what happened to Cross, don't you?" inquired Sanjiv.

"It would be nice, but you don't strike me as a nice guy," replied Mana.

"True," said Sanjiv. "I'm just neutral. I can, however, be persuaded…"

"With what? Money? Information?" seethed Mana. Maybe if it were the old geezer he'd bow over to whatever his wish was, but a guy who couldn't have been more than twenty? Mana might be willing to wait two weeks at that point.

"And I thought you wanted to know," stated Sanjiv, turning away from Mana. "I was only going to ask a little favor."

Mana could tell the guy was contemplating leaving by the way he stood with his right foot swinging out in front of him. "What kind of a favor?" he huffed. He would let his curiosity win today.

Sanjiv turned back around to face Mana. "I'm working on creating my own log, so I'd like to observe what you do," responded Sanjiv.

It sounded very simple for a favor… and also really creepy. "You just want to follow me around?" inquire Mana blankly. "Write oddly specific things about me down in a notebook somewhere."

"That's pretty much it," replied Sanjiv. "So…"

"Fine," growled Mana. He didn't have any other options at the moment, and that fact made him furious. "What happened to G- Cross?"

"Well, after he inadvertently told me where you were, he went back to Ziegler's," began Sanjiv. He came around the bench and sat down next to Mana. "Unfortunately, the Black Order was in town investigating some Innocence that was found there, and, you know, Innocence-"

"Attracts akuma," finished Mana. He knew that all too well from Uncle Adam's later inventions. "Go on."

"The exorcist investigating the case made Cross help him for a while, but seemed to get fed up with him," continued Sanjiv. "They were looking at some monkeys for a while before the akuma attacked. When the akuma came, one of the monkeys became giant and started fighting the akuma."

"The monkey?"

"The monkey," repeated Sanjiv. "Cross went to go catch it and almost ended up in the fight, but he used some technology force field called a Talisman to keep the akuma away. He was the only one from the troupe to survive."

Mana breathed a sigh of relief. Although it was terrible that his former troupe- well, he'd only been the errand boy- was dead, his friend was still alive. "Where is he now?" questioned Mana.

"I saw him get on a boat headed for the mainland," said Sanjiv. "That's the last time I saw him. I headed here right afterwards."

Mana sat there silent for a moment, glad that Cross was okay and getting away from the site of the akuma attack. Now his only problem was Sanjiv… if only he could make Sanjiv go away…

He then got a better idea. Mana had not gotten to see Sanjiv's face when he kissed Sophia on the cheek. Now he had the chance to see some sort of reaction from the apprentice of the great Bookman. "So I guess you're just watching me now," stated Mana.

"Yes," replied Sanjiv.

Mana timed the silence so that it would be just long enough to be awkward. He stood up immediately after a couple minutes. "Well, thanks for the great story. I'm going to head back to the circus," said Mana.

He walked away quickly, but made sure to take a path where he could see his reflection in the waterways. Sanjiv ran to catch up with him. "You're going back to the circus," said Sanjiv. "Just like that? Aren't you a little too visible in a circus? Cross may have been the only magician, but he wore a mask and his name is different. You're completely visible as Mana."

Mana turned and jabbed Sanjiv in the chest with his pointer finger. "No," he responded. "You're just afraid that people might actually pay attention to you. If you really want to observe me, then you'll have to see me in my natural habitat."

"And to think you were a lord at one point," muttered Sanjiv. Nonetheless, the young Bookman followed. Mana was going to have way too much fun with this.

oOo

They spotted Nico when crossing through the main square. The acrobat ran up to Mana waving wildly. That's when Mana noticed the other acrobats from the troupe standing around talking to passersby. Perfect.

"Mana! We've been at it for the past hour, but the people here don't know anything about Ziegler's," reported Nico, his tan face slightly flushed from the excitement.

"We could send a runner down south," said a Russian acrobat named Sergey. "That fellow over there says there's a circus about 20 kilometers south of here.

"It's fine!" replied Mana, holding his hands up in protest and smiling. "My _friend_ here just came from the south. He saw the other guy get on a boat for the mainland."

The troupe breathed a collective sigh of relief. "That's wonderful!" exclaimed Nico, patting Mana and Sanjiv on the back. To Mana's pleasure Sanjiv almost looked startled, but his face never betrayed his apathetic façade. "What is your friend called?"

"Oh, this is Sanjiv," remarked Mana. "He's a traveler just like me, aren't you?"

"Yes," responded Sanjiv in a clipped tone.

Mana looked Nico directly in the eye and thankfully the Italian tumbler received the message. "Gentlemen!" he called out to the other acrobats. "This calls for a celebration!"

Without another word Sergey launched into several flips and tumbles. Nico began to walk on his hands while the other tumblers started their own improvised routines. "What are you doing?" Sanjiv asked emotionlessly. He stared at the crowd beginning to form. "You're drawing an awful lot of attention."

"This is what we do," replied Mana with a shrug. "We _live_ to draw attention. Now if you'll excuse me." Mana threw himself into several back hand-springs followed by a round off. The show didn't last very long, but by the end he was grinning wildly as he climbed onto Sergey's shoulders to help build a human pyramid. The crowd was very appreciative in cheers and tips, so Mana knew exactly what would happen next.

A couple of the tumblers grabbed Sanjiv and began hauling him off to the nearest bar, singing praises of the herald of good news. "Where are we going?" inquired Sanjiv, who unfortunately did not look disturbed like Mana had hoped.

"To the bar," said Mana. "We received good tips for the street performance, plus we're all in an exceptionally good mood now, thanks to you."

Sanjiv almost looked like he regretted telling him about Cross. Mana was just going to have to push his buttons more- if he could find his buttons.

oOo

Thankfully there was no performance today due to some sort of state holiday, so the fact that the entire team of acrobats was slightly tipsy didn't matter in the least. Somehow the damned Bookman Junior was really good at holding his liquor. Sanjiv's face wasn't even flushed, and Mana was pretty sure he had drunk as much alcohol as everyone else.

"Mana! Mana! Mana!" called a child's voice. He knew immediately, although he was still tipsy, that it was the manager's daughter, Abigail.

Abigail had a team of other children following her, some he recognized as the children of performers and others h was sure had snuck away from their parents to explore the strange world called a circus. "Hello there, Abby!" exclaimed Mana, bending down so he could look her right in the face.

"I want you to play with us!" chirped the little brown-haired girl.

Mana chuckled and waggled a finger. "It's not nice to make demands like that, Abby," he chastised. "Now what do you say?"

"Will you please play with us?" begged Abby. "Please!"

"She says you know juggling tricks!" exclaimed a bright-eyed child.

"And that you can fly!" cried out another.

"I didn't know that I could fly," remarked Mana. The children giggled. He looked over at Sanjiv, but like always he appeared stony faced. Mana thought there must be something wrong with the guy. Even a Bookman should not be able to resist smiling around such fun little kids.

"I think they mean your acrobatic tricks," said Sanjiv. "And will you stop staring at me?"

Mana looked away. At least he had finally bothered the guy, if only a little bit. "Okay," he sighed. "I guess I can play with you…"

The children cheered and ran up to grab his arms. "However, Sanjiv has to play, too," continued Mana to make his intentions clear. Sanjiv didn't move, but Mana couldn't tell whether he was frozen to the spot in shock or not because he had his damn Bookman poker face on still.

"The grumpy guy?" inquired the bright-eyed boy.

"That's the one," replied Mana. Some of the kids ran up to Sanjiv and tried to pull him along. Sanjiv, however, just began walking himself. The kids holding onto him dug their heels into the ground and laughed as the Bookman dragged them along. "Although I don't think he'll appreciate it if he hears you call him grumpy."

"Will you teach us how to do tumbling tricks?" asked another little girl.

Mana broke away from them. "Only if you can catch me!" he shouted before running off. A stampede of little children chased after him, causing quite a ruckus in the narrow lanes between tents and trailers. Some of the adults began to shout, but stopped when seeing the kids laughing as they ran to catch up with the visiting performer. They smiled and turned back to whatever they had been doing before. Sanjiv followed along at a leisurely pace, just fast enough to keep Mana in sight.

oOo

Mana had tried surprising Sanjiv out of his wits with the impromptu street performance and dragging him off to the bar, but the boy had not panicked. He'd forced the guy to play tag and hide-and-seek with the kids for two hours, but the boy had not smiled. Mana even tried the oldest tricks in the book: giving the guy a can full of spring worms and leaving the cutest, tiniest child asleep in Sanjiv's lap, but the Bookman had not shown any expression at all besides boredom.

That left only one option.

Mana knew from years of watching the clown portion of the performance that people had about two reactions to clowns. The first was laughter because who didn't want to laugh at a guy hurting himself intentionally. The second was fear. There were some people out there who just didn't like clowns. They were the kind of people who either left the circus during that portion cussing under their breath or the people that cried and/or turned away. All of this because they'd wet their beds at night if they dreamed about clowns.

He didn't have a clown suit- his specialty was plain juggling and acrobatics- but he found some greasepaint to borrow. Abby hung a sheet on a clothes line between two trees and stood like a little ring master in front of the 'curtain.' The other children sat in front eagerly waiting for the performance. Sanjiv was in the back still holding the sleeping child in his lap.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" called out Abby in her most manly voice. "Boys and girls! I now give to you Mana the Amazing Clown!"

The kids cheered as Abby pulled the 'curtain' open. Mana walked pigeon-toed onto their makeshift stage. The children began to shriek with laughter. He silently pulled out three colored juggling balls from his pockets and waved them around for a bit so that everyone could see them. Then he began to juggle, causing the kids to clap. After a couple minutes of the basic form he began to throw in a couple tricks like juggling behind his back, throwing a ball under his leg, juggling them off the ground with a bounce, and even adding a fourth ball. Mana them moved onto doing some goofy tumbles. The kids seemed to think the overly tucked in cart-wheels were funny, so he did several in a row before falling dramatically onto the ground.

Sanjiv just stared at him as if this were something normal while surrounded by kids roaring with laughter. Mana was really hoping he wouldn't have to do this, but he reached for the big bouncy ball and the rotten tomatoes he'd found in his tent. He stood up on the ball and began haphazardly to juggle the tomatoes. Of course juggling fruit wasn't difficult, but he was intentionally making it look difficult. This earned several poorly concealed chuckles from the kids and one by one he began to drop the tomatoes on his face.

The kids laughed loudly and cheered as he took his bow, rotten tomato juice dripping all over his face and shirt. Sanjiv just sat there looking forward as if nothing had happened. The only sign that he was paying attention at all were three polite claps of his hands, the kind of claps Mana had been trained to give at concerts as a child. He had sadly failed his day's mission.

oOo

After he had cleaned off the grease paint and tomato juice and changed into a fresh shirt, Mana walked Sanjiv back into the city of Venice. Apparently Bookman was expecting him back today and had arranged for his lovely brother to pick his apprentice up in the old part of the city. Mana examined Sanjiv out of the corner of his eye while they walked through ankle-high water.

"I don't get it," Mana finally complained. Sanjiv only quirked an eyebrow at this comment. "No matter where you are, no matter who you are surrounded by, no matter what you see you always wear that stupid poker face. How do you live like that?"

"I'm a Bookman," said Sanjiv. "Bookmen only observe history so that we may record it. We are not to become involved for a Bookman does not have a heart."

Mana was a bit curious about this last part. "Like as in you literally don't have a heart, or in a metaphorical sense?"

"Metaphorical," replied Sanjiv. "Every human- every Noah for that matter- has a physical heart. You'd be dead without one."

"So you're just not allowed to feel," stated Mana, "but inside you really do."

"I'm not allowed, and I don't" responded Sanjiv stiffly. "You might think that it's important to feel, but feelings only bring about chaos. There isn't a conflict out there that wasn't started by feelings. I've simply chosen to cast them aside to live as unbiased a life as possible. I won't let anything stop me from walking down the path I have chosen for my life."

Mana supposed that this was Sanjiv's way of feeling- by pursuing this 'dream' though Mana would describe it as more of a nightmare. If this was how the guy wanted to live his life, he supposed that he couldn't stop him. "Alright," sighed Mana, doing his best to sound completely defeated. "I suppose we all have our preferences. You want to be on the sidelines and I want to live. I hoped today helped with whatever it is you're supposed to record."

Sanjiv shrugged. "It will do," he replied. "I may stop by now and then, but you don't have to acknowledge me. Today didn't really go by the Bookman credo."

Mana sighed dramatically, but knew Sanjiv was right. He'd have to let the guy function by his rules since he had given him the information on Cross. "I understand," he said, flashing a small smile.

They reached the main square, Piazza San Marco, and saw it was empty. Mana shook Sanjiv's hand and turned to leave. As soon as he did, though, he heard a splash and a muffled shriek. Mana hid behind the corner of a nearby building in order to peak out into the square. He felt that he was being a dirty spy just like Sanjiv.

The young Bookman, in the mean time, had run over to the edge of the square and was now helping someone stand in the now knee-high water. "Are you alright?" asked Sanjiv.

"Sanjiv!" cried out the new voice in relief. Mana could now recognize the voice as well as the dark curtain of curly black hair that accompanied it: Sophia. "Neah sent me to fetch you here- he just arrived home himself- but I think he forgot where exactly, so I've been wandering around looking for you. He didn't say anything about a flood."

"It's called Acqua Alta," stated Sanjiv. He took off the light coat he had been wearing and draped it over Sophia's shoulders. "During the spring and fall the tides and the winds work together to cause a slight flooding in Venice and nearby towns."

"Oh," said Sophia. The twelve-year old looked around the gas light-lit square. "I think I might like the city better this way. You do know a lot of things, Sanjiv."

"It comes with the job description," he replied. "Now which way is the gate?"

As he walked away Sophia called out to him. "You didn't have to give me your coat," she said, "but you did. Why is that?"

Sanjiv tensed up at this statement. Mana was stunned to see the young Bookman's body show anything so clearly. Junior was genuinely surprised. "I didn't need it," he responded, trying desperately to recover. "Please hold onto it for me."

Sophia smiled at him and walked up next to Sanjiv. "Thanks," she said. She reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze. Mana was pretty certain that Sanjiv's cheeks turned pink in shock. Sophia didn't let go of his hand. Instead she began to lead him along the path. "The gate is this way. Come on!"

Mana gained a great deal of satisfaction from watching Sophia lead the pink-cheeked Sanjiv away. He etched the moment into his memory where he hoped it would last forever. If only the Git had been here for this. Mana was certain that he would have gotten a big kick out of the whole situation, too.

**Finally, a chapter for Mana! I have to admit, this wasn't in the original chapter line-up, but after looking at my planning I realized I needed a bit more character development before moving on to the next big ark. Plus I really just wanted Mana to harass Sanjiv. Way too much fun. It inspired the song choice for this title. Sing a Song of Sixpense has a sort of whimsical feel about it, and Mana is truly a whimsical person.**

**So what do you think? Is Mana still evolving as a person? What will he say once he learns Cross' new affiliation? And does Sanjiv actually have… feelings? Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12: Scarborough Fair

**I logged in to Fanfiction today to see that you can now upload images to the site. That means we can now have covers for our stories! Yes! I'll have to get to work on that (or if anyone would like to draw me a cover, then that would be awesome too!).**

**Anyhow the thank yous. First, I'd like to thank Equalibriem for putting this story on her alert list. Second, I'd like to thank WillowC1 and ilikedan for the lovely reviews. I love to hear when you guys have questions, and WillowC1's question was a good one for anyone confused about the ages of characters. Feel free to private message me if you have any other questions. Third, I'd like to thank Cstan for putting this story on their favorites and alert list.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man or the song used below. I also do not own any of the dialogue written by Katsura Hoshino.**

**SPOILER ALERT CHAPTER 214!**

**Chapter Twelve: Scarborough Fair**

"_Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_Which never bore blossom since Adam was born,_

_Then she shall be a true lover of mine_."

Traditional English Ballad, 1889

He had not expected the village to be completely destroyed. Uncle Adam had sent out Neah with his cousin Road to a small village east of the Mexico City to do some 'clean up' after an akuma attack. Neah had never been out _on_ the field before. Most of the time he would read world newspapers to find information on current conflicts for his uncle so that they knew where to plan the next attack. This work was below his strategist position, but he knew it had to be done. He just had not expected it to be so dirty.

Everything he had heard about akuma attacks was that they were quick and painless, much more humane than human wars. His current surroundings begged to differ. Neah was sure that the darker large clumps of dirt sitting among the smoldering remains were held together by blood. He might have vomited if Road were not with him.

Road seemed to be the complete opposite of his morose appearance. The thirteen-year old skipped amongst piles of dust and debris humming some little tune to herself. She had a wild grin plastered across her face as she examined their handiwork.

"Uncle Adam will be so proud when he has heard how well this attack went!" she called over the howling wind. Her limp hair danced like snakes around her head and mingled with the flying dust. Neah couldn't help but feel that his dignified cousin looked, well, savage, in this environment. Sure, Road wasn't dainty like Aunt Lulubell, but she was generally refined. If he didn't know Road beforehand, he would have thought she was a witch upon seeing her here.

"Sure," he replied. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shut his eyes as more dust flew past his face.

"Come one, Neah," protested Road, "you must be a little bit proud. You planned this whole attack, and look! There's not a human left for miles around." She whirled around in a circle, causing her green dress to fan out around her.

"That's certainly true," Neah stated. "Aren't we almost done yet? I want to get out of this damn dust."

"That's not polite, Neah," tittered Road. "You shouldn't use such language around a lady. Plus, we'll probably head out again as soon as we arrive home, and I hardly get to see you alone anymore. I've missed you, Neah."

He was missing the old Road now, too: the Road that was vain and bothered him nonstop about stupid things like hair-bows and tea. Neah honestly would not have minded going on a picnic right now, anything that would take him away from the bloody crater he had helped to create. "That's nice," was all he managed to say. He gave the village one last scan and knew with that he had done his job all too well. "Perhaps we can get some time off to have tea together soon. For now, though, I believe we are done. Let's go home, Road."

She pouted but began to head back towards Neah. He let her pass him so that he wouldn't have to hear his monster of a cousin humming her happy tunes or see her smiling as she saw the carnage. Neah summoned a gate at the edge of the dead village, and they returned to London.

oOo

Uncle Tykki invited him (forced him) to attend a ball later that week. "You're a suave type like myself," he explained as they rode in a carriage bound to Campbell Manor- the house where his mother grew up.

It was owned by to her second cousin Cyrus. Neah would have to say that Cyrus was the weirder version of Uncle Adam, although the two looked nothing alike. Cyrus was somewhat short and always very cheerful. He lacked the grace of his esteemed Uncle Adam. Despite his social short-comings, Cyrus was the oldest male on his mother's side of the family, so once Arienne had married and Cyrus' father passed away he became the head of the Campbell family. He spent most days tinkering with odd tidbits here and there. Cyrus was trying to build a motor-powered glider that could fly for great distances. Neah thought he was crazy, but he put up with the once a year visits for his mother's sake.

"It would be a shame to let your talents go to waste," continued Uncle Tykki.

"But I'm betrothed," replied Neah. "Road would hurt me if I tried to flirt with any other girl. I'm not a free agent like you, Uncle Tykki."

Uncle Tykki laughed at this comment. "That's true," he chuckled. "I can't imagine Road going easy on either of us in that case. Maybe I can persuade one of your peers to distract her for a bit…"

Neah rolled his eyes, which only caused his uncle to laugh again. He wasn't very fond of Uncle Tykki- it was hard for any of his uncles to measure up to Uncle Adam- but he was at least jovial when not around the rest of the family. Maybe the man had some of the same doubts that Neah was having himself…

The party was long and boring just as Neah expected. Vain girls pranced around in weather-balloon-sized ball gowns trying to catch the eyes of the young lords. He found that he was often the target of their affections since he would inherit the title of the head of the Walker household in the next couple years. Neah really wondered if anyone knew that he was betrothed, or if they just didn't care. He had heard of cases where a betrothal was broken due to better prospects coming up. Perhaps he should pay more attention.

"_You don't have to marry anyone_," rumbled a voice inside his head. He felt a familiar spot in his chest begin to burn. Neah hadn't really noticed the burning sensation until later in his childhood, but he continued to ignore even afterwards. It was only when he lay in bed with a severe fever that he had finally told anyone, causing great panic for Rhian. He had awoken not too long after that. His chest burned almost all the time now. "_You could just cut off ties with Road_."

"And then what?" he thought. Neah walked out of the ball room onto a veranda outside. He leaned up against a wall. "It wouldn't please the Clan."

"_Must you always live for the Clan_?" mocked his Inner Noah in a tone similar to Mana. "_Your brother is a weakling, but he's right about how enslaved you are to your family_."

"Enslaved?" laughed Neah. "I have the birthright to two estates, and after I marry Road I'll own another. I can travel anywhere I want in the world without a thought. I can buy anything I want. I _live_ the definition of freedom."

"_You live a freedom bound by chains_," said the Inner Noah. "_Your family only lies to you, Neah. If you would listen to me and do things my way, then I could give you true freedom_."

"And what would that be?" asked Neah. "Destroying everything? I know you too well, my friend."

"_It's out of destruction that you can create things_," reasoned the Inner Noah. "_If you would destroy all of this then you could create a new world that follows your rules_."

"I'm fine with the current game," snapped Neah.

Shadows seemed to rise around him. "_Then why are you unhappy_?" inquired the Inner Noah. "_You cannot lie to me about your pain. I am you, and you want out_."

"Shut up!" growled Neah. He slammed a fist against the wall of the house.

"_Just give me power, you damn brat_!" the Inner Noah shouted at him. Neah plugged his ears and slid down against the wall. "_You cannot resist me, so just give in already_!"

"Mana, help me," he moaned. As the Inner Noah continued to shout profanities into his ears, Neah hoisted himself up and brushed his clothes off. Once he was certain he was presentable again, he went back into the ball room.

He ran into Uncle Adam as he made his way to the front door. "Neah, there you are," said Uncle Adam. His bright smile turned to a slight frown when he looked into Neah's face. "Are you alright, nephew? You're looking awfully pale."

"I'm not feeling too well," admitted Neah. "I'm thinking of retiring early tonight. Would you mind if I borrowed a horse, Uncle Adam?"

"Not at all," replied Uncle Adam. "You know where the stables are. Are you certain you can ride back, though, in your current condition."

Neah felt a spell of dizziness overtake him. "I may rest for a bit before departing," he stated.

"Feel free to use one of the upstairs rooms, then," quipped Uncle Adam. He turned his attention back to his guests.

Neah found the second floor to by satisfactorily empty, so he picked an empty guest room and lay down. Thankfully, the Inner Noah had given up on yelling at him at this point. It always restrained itself whenever he spoke with Uncle Adam and for a good while afterwards. He was still feeling quite shaky, though.

A floor board in the hall creaked. Neah looked up at the door and then lay back down. However, he heard another creak, so he sat up and went to investigate the noise. When he opened the door he saw Uncle Sheril sweep into the neighboring room. Avoiding the creaking floor boards (he knew where they were due to increasingly frequent visits to the estate on 'business') Neah crept up to the door of the adjacent room and peaked inside through the crack between the now open door and the doorframe.

"This was a terrible time to wake up, my dear," drawled Uncle Sheril. He was looking down at a tiny figure in a very plush bed. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn open. Lying among numerous pillows was a young woman, probably a little over twenty years old. "The Earl is very worried about you. The guests are in hysterics having seen Road faint so suddenly."

"I know," replied a very weak voice. The woman looked up through very limp black hair at Uncle Sheril. "My emotions just boiled over when I heard Neah was not here to dance with me. It's hard to contain such emotions to a dream."

"It doesn't matter now," replied Sheril. "Just go back to sleep, Cornelia, so that Road wakes up."

"Of course, Sheril," yawned the woman. Heavy eyelids shuttered her dark eyes, making her sunken, sickly pale skin stand out. Cornelia began to breath evenly.

Neah silently raced back to the room he had occupied just before Uncle Sheril exited the neighboring room. He listened for the creaks accompanying his uncle's footsteps as he walked down the hall and returned to the ball below. Neah found that his hands did not stop shaking even after Uncle Sheril's footsteps faded to nothing.

He began to pace to ease his nerves. So Road had fainted when this Cornelia woke up, and Cornelia had said something about maintaining a dream…

"_Told you that they lied to you_," grumbled the Inner Noah.

Neah didn't even argue back. He flung on his abandoned tailcoat and ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the back door towards the stables. The stable boy ran about at his snappy orders to ready a horse, terrified at the sight of the enraged young Lord Walker. Neah swung his leg over the horse and rode back to Walker Manor.

oOo

_He remembered the name Cornelia very well. There was one tree planted on the grounds around the manor. His mother had always been very fond of it, calling the tree Cornelia. She would say hello whenever she came outside._

_ Neah liked the tree as well. Whenever he needed to get away from his brothers or the annoyingly watchful eyes of Git, he would climb up into the branches of Cornelia. Even though he would get dirty, his mother didn't seem to mind. Some of his best memories of his mother came from the times they had talked out by Cornelia._

_ He remembered one day in particular. Neah had been six years old at the time, and Mana had taken very ill. Rory had sat outside Mana's door with Gitano, asking constantly when Mana would wake up. Mother and Rhian spent most of the time sitting by Mana's bedside holding his hand or pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. He remembered being quite jealous for the amount of affection shown, but also extremely lonely._

_ Several akuma in the Camelot Family staff had been whispering about the fact that Mana might not grow up. He might not even wake up at all. Everyone was pretty certain that his brother was going to die. They said he wasn't strong enough to join the Clan. His death would make Neah the oldest, and he did not feel ready to be the head of his family. Gitano didn't respect him- then again Git didn't respect anyone- and Rory had never looked up to him the way he had looked up to Mana._

_ He felt ill at the thought and felt the burning sensation in his chest- one of the first of many times._

_ That's when mother had appeared at the base of the tree, smiling sweetly up at him. Only when she was alone with him did Mother truly show how much she loved him. Mother was cold to the outside world, but that was because she had to be stronger than it, raising three children on her own. _

_She was wearing her favorite pale yellow dress with the puffed sleeves that day. Mother had always looked very pretty in that dress. It made her reddish-brown hair look like it was on fire. Uncle Adam had said that whenever she did. She had teased Neah about talking to the wind that day. He supposed he had been talking to himself but definitely not to the wind. Then he would be just plain crazy._

_ She had been very playful that day, talking like a child. Mana seemed to talk like that now. Maybe it was genetic. Neah hoped it wasn't contagious._

_He was just about to divulge his fears to his mother when she started laughing and Mana crawled out from under her skirts calling out his name. Neah had been much too relieved to be angry at his older brother for playing that trick on him instead of running out of the house to greet him. His brother was flushed with joy at being alive and able to run outside again. _

_Mana explained that Mother had really wanted to play a joke, seeing how depressed everyone had been (minus Git). It was the happiest he could remember ever seeing his mother and his normally cold older brother. Neah even remembered crying that day as he climbed out of the tree, getting dirt all over his new shirt. He had shared a tight embrace with his brother and his mother and then ran off to the house to see if Rory knew yet. Before he had reached the front steps, however, he had stopped and turned to see Mother and Mana's progress._

_Mana ran towards him, slightly out of breath (he hadn't been one for exercise in those days). Mother was several meters behind, her skirts flying behind her like the wings of a butterfly as she jogged towards them. Neah extended his hand to his older brother and smiled. Mana took it gratefully and gave his free hand to Mother. Together they walked through the front door._

_Now he was confused. The good memories he had of the tree Cornelia seemed to mix with the face of the young woman in Uncle Adam's house. His mother's soft loving greeting to the tree now seemed like a conspiracy. He really wanted to ask Mother why the tree was called Cornelia…_

oOo

"Lord Neah!" exclaimed Sophia when he stalked through the door. "You're home early. I thought you were returning with your uncle."

"I-I wasn't feeling well," he stammered. Neah tried several times to remove his gloves with clumsy, trembling hands. Finally, Sophia walked over to him and tentatively removed them for him. She led him to the sitting room and pushed him down into one of the large cushioned armchairs.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked. She sounded genuinely worried. Her large eyes searched his face for any sign of his distress. "Perhaps some tea?"

"No thank you," he mumbled.

Sophia curtsied and then turned to leave. Suddenly she stopped and walked hurriedly back to him. "I almost forgot," she said. "Bookman sent a telegraph earlier today. He was reminding you to fetch Sanjiv from Venice."

Neah wanted to hit his head against a wall. He really didn't want to face either Bookman or his apprentice right now. They would be able to tell that something had happened, and for some reason Neah felt that it was best that nobody found out. He didn't know how forgiving they would be if they found out he had stuck his nose into family secrets without being invited…

"I honestly don't think that I have the energy for that," replied Neah. "However, I have the gate open already in my room. Could you perhaps go in my stead?"

Sophia looked completely shocked that he was asking her a favor and that he was being polite about it. He couldn't remember ever giving her an order that was not expressed in a command. "Of course," she stated. "I'm afraid I don't know which door goes to Venice."

"It's the one on the second level of the city across from the boarded up door," responded Neah. He shivered at the mention of _that_ door.

She seemed to understand what _that_ door meant and bowed her head. "I won't touch _that_ door, Lord Neah," Sophia said. As she turned her raven curls fell unglamorously over her shoulder. "Do you know where in the city he is?"

Neah thought about it for a moment. He knew that Bookman had set up a meeting place for them and said it was for a very specific reason, but Neah could not remember it at the time due to his current mental state. "I cannot remember," he sighed. "I _think_ I set it to the right place. At least that's always where I enter Venice. I'm sure Sanjiv can't be too far from that point. Now go."

"Yes, sir," replied Sophia. She rushed out of the room and up the stairs.

He heard his bedroom door swing open slightly on its hinges. Neah would have to remember to ask that girl to oil the hinges when she returned. It only occurred to him later that he should have told her to wear a coat. The night could still be pretty chilly in April.

"_Just look at you now_," seethed the Inner Noah. "_You're pitying a human_!"

"So what?" groaned Neah. He had heard just about enough from his Inner Noah tonight. It was bad enough that he'd had some doubts about his family. He didn't need anyone or anything else telling him what to do.

The silence after that might have been worse because now he could actually think. He now knew that Road wasn't really Road. It would be correct to say that there wasn't even really a girl named Road. Road was Cornelia, a twenty-something year old confined to bed in order to maintain her powers. And Neah was supposed to marry this woman. He somehow felt sicker than when he had first thought about what it meant to marry Road.

Luckily, Sophia returned before he could continue thinking about his current dilemma. Her footsteps sounded rather heavy, though. Almost like she was wearing a pair of boots…

"Hey, Neah," said a very familiar baritone. He wanted to groan. The girl had brought Sanjiv back with her to Walker Manor. It completely defeated the purpose of him not going to Venice. "You should give the kid better directions next time. Venice floods at night this time of year. Plus she couldn't remember where the door to Paris was, so I'm just going to bunk here tonight. I'll be in the other room writing a telegraph to Bookman."

Neah waited for Sanjiv to leave the room before turning on Sophia. He found, however, that he couldn't glare at the sopping wet girl in front of him. She was shaking terribly- whether out of chill or fear he didn't care- and clung tightly to a light coat that was now draped over her shoulders. Sophia's eyes were turned to the floor, almost like they could burrow a hole big enough to hide her. She reached one hand to grab onto a chain around her neck. Rhian had given the girl a silver pendant in her will. Sophia had taken to holding onto the silver pendant whenever she was frightened. The pendant had recently been joined by an emerald ring on the chain. Neah didn't know where Sophia had come across such a trinket. "Just go and change clothes," he sighed. "Then clean up all this water."

"Y-yes, Lord Neah," she replied through chattering teeth. Her face seemed to relax a bit. She still ran from the room despite this display of comfort.

Sanjiv returned not too long after. "The geezer is pissed, but you don't have to take me back to Paris tonight," stated Sanjiv. His dark eyes scanned Neah from head to foot and then raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you? You look almost as bad as Sophia."

Neah really wanted to pulverize Sanjiv and his annoyingly blank face. He sat up straighter in his chair. "Nothing," he snapped. "Aren't you a Bookman? You should have been able to remember which door goes to Paris."

"I do remember that it was on the fifth level and that it's surrounded by and arched vine bearing red roses," Sanjiv remarked. "However, it would take too long to look at every door on the fifth level and your maid looked like she would get lost if I left her there. As I said earlier, you're terrible at giving directions."

"What do you care about how I treat my staff?" asked Neah.

"I don't," responded Sanjiv. One of his hands twitched. "I still want to know what you're hiding."

"You're just making assumptions," grumbled Neah. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't need to make assumptions. I _know_," said Sanjiv. "The way you're sitting tells me everything. When I came in you were slouched. You only slouch whenever something is weighing heavily on your mind. As soon as I mentioned your appearance you straightened up as if you were trying to hide the fact that something is wrong. Then you became defensive and crossed your arms in front of you. You can't hide things from me, Neah Walker. I will find out one way or another."

Neah's eyes became wide at this analysis. He hadn't even noticed those things about himself. Even his actions were betraying him tonight. "I'm not that easy to frighten," seethed Neah.

"I know," replied Sanjiv. "I'm willing to trade, though."

"Isn't that against your credo?" questioned Neah.

"No," stated Sanjiv. "As long as I believe the information you have is useful, then I'm allowed to trade almost anything."

"And what kind of trade would this be?" asked Neah.

Sanjiv locked his fingers together and extended his arms to crack them. "I might have run into somebody _or_ somebodies you might or might not find interesting."

Neah had a good idea about these people. Right now he'd be willing to let Sanjiv stay a weak if he could have something to think about besides the Cornelia issue. "Fine," he spat. "I suppose you ran into Mana."

"Not at first," replied Sanjiv. "I went to Sicily first because I heard Cross was in Sicily. The akuma attack there went a bit overboard, though. I thought for a bit your clan ordered the entire island to be destroyed."

"There were akuma in Sicily?" he inquired. He couldn't remember sending them there, but then again he was sending new akuma out almost every day.

"Yes, and if it wasn't for the Black Order then Cross might not still be among us."

"The Black Order rescued him?" exclaimed Neah. If they found out about Cross' former ties, then he was going to be in serious trouble.

"He didn't tell them anything," replied Sanjiv, rolling his eyes at Neah's display of panic. "He wasn't exactly friendly to them. Pretty much tried to do whatever he could to get them off the island as quickly as possible. He left for the mainland after that. Now when I first arrived there he accidently gave me information on Mana's whereabouts, so I headed to Venice after that."

"Mana is in Venice?" repeated Neah. Sanjiv had been pretty lucky in that respect, otherwise he probably would not have been able to drop in on his wayward brother.

"Yes. He's living it up too. Definitely not what I would think of as a young lord," elaborated Sanjiv. He sat down on a chair across from Neah. "He was practically intoxicated and running around screaming with little children."

Neah was having a hard time imagining this at first, but then he thought about Mana in Berlin…

"Sound like him," he mumbled. "But besides that?"

"He was well," responded Sanjiv. "Things were pretty dull in Venice."

At least Mana wasn't facing any akuma attacks. Sanjiv looked at him expectantly, so Neah began to talk. "I was at a ball tonight at my Uncle Cyrus' house."

"Your mother's cousin, correct?" questioned Sanjiv.

"Yes," replied Neah. He finished telling Sanjiv about the woman named Cornelia and what Uncle Sheril had said. Neah wasn't surprised when Sanjiv came to the same conclusion.

"So Road is actually this Cornelia," said Sanjiv. Neah nodded. "Normally these kinds of things are surprising, but with the way your clan is it somehow lessens the effect. What are you going to do about this, Neah?"

"I don't know," he grumbled. He stood up and began to pace. "I want to find out more about her, but I feel like I'm not supposed to know just yet. I'm sure Road will want to strangle me if she finds out that I know that she's that weak little thing rotting away in a bed."

"She wouldn't kill you," responded Sanjiv. "You're part of her dream."

"I don't want to be part of her dream!" shouted Neah. He felt his face turning red with anger and embarrassment. "Do you know anything about her?"

"Not much," admitted Sanjiv. "The old geezer probably knows more."

"You could find out then," prompted Neah.

Sanjiv shrugged. "I'd require another favor then," he stated.

Neah moaned. "What do you want?" he questioned.

"I'm not sure yet," replied Sanjiv, "but I'm sure I'll think of something. We'll just call it an 'IOU.'"

"Alright," he snapped. Sometimes he really hated working with Bookmen. It only gave him headaches when he thought about how difficult it had been to persuade the old man to find Git and his brother. This had not been quite as difficult, but it still reminded him of those five long days last summer working out a deal. He decided this would be the last deal he'd ever make with a Bookman.

oOo

Unfortunately the Cornelia issue came up again the next day. It had been sitting quietly like a foreboding shadow all the way through breakfast. He was surprised Sanjiv was polite enough not to bring it up. Neah supposed that he should have thought better of the young Bookman. Sanjiv had always taken his work very seriously. They had just finished having tea when a knock came at the door. Sophia answered the door and reentered the room, her face very pale.

"Lady Road," she announced.

Neah furrowed his eyebrows as Sanjiv raised his. Sophia retreated to the kitchen as Road swept into the dining room. Her large lavender skirt almost knocked over a vase of flowers close to the door. "Neah!" she cried out. "I was ever so worried about you! Uncle Adam said that you were not feeling well last night."

"I wasn't," he said stiffly. He was feeling even worse now. Neah was sure that if Sanjiv were not trained so well then the boy would be snorting into his tea right about now.

"Well, you're looking much better today," she said. Neah stood up reluctantly and pulled out a chair for her. Road sat down gracefully, folding her hands daintily on her lap.

"Sophia Maria?" she inquired.

Silence greeted Road. Neah was sure that Sophia was quivering in the kitchen, praying to God that Road would just forget about her.

"SOPHIA MARIA!" Road barked.

The kitchen door opened a crack. "Yes, Lady Road?" she asked.

"I would like some tea," demanded Road. "A biscuit would be nice as well."

"Yes, m'am," replied Sophia. The door closed. Seconds later she reemerged carrying a biscuit on a plate and a fresh tea cup. She placed both in front of Road with trembling hands.

Sophia was about to poor out the tea, but Neah could see this would only end in disaster. Road was just asking for scalding tea to be poured over her lavender dress. "I'm the host," he said, holding up a hand. "I'll pour."

Sophia seemed shocked for a bit, but Sophia recovered quickly. With a quick curtsy and a nod of thanks she left the room. Road was not as pleased, but she waited to voice this opinion until Neah sat down. "I still cannot fathom why you keep her around," she scoffed. "Of all the human girls in the world, Sophia Maria has to be the most useless."

"She knows too much already, and my mother requires care," responded Neah as always.

"Well with the way things have been the past couple months I doubt she'll be requiring care for much longer," drawled Road. Neah clenched the napkin in his lap. "I don't think I've seen her up and about since Christmas. Just last year she would come down the stairs to say hello. Now she just lies in bed. I'm not an expert on human health, but I know that this is not a good sign."

"What would you have me do?" he asked, trying very hard to keep his temper.

"Why haven't you give into your Inner Noah yet and just kill her?" asked Road. "Don't you just want to strangle her with that chain around her neck every single time you see her?" Road's dark eyes seemed to bulge out of her sockets. "I have to stop the akuma in my house from flying over here every single time I come home. My clothing reeks of human. How can you stand such a stench? I just want to snuff it out whenever I smell it."

Road twisted the napkin in her lap tightly like she was wringing someone's neck. A bit of tea sloshed over the rim of Sanjiv's cup as the hand holding it twitched. Neah set his own cup down to avoid spilling anything.

"No," he said honestly. "I just don't pay any attention to the Inner Noah. I'm more civilized than he is, so we don't really have the same tastes. He can say all he wants, but that isn't going to change the fact that Sophia is part of the household staff."

"She's a thorn in my side, Neah," Road groaned, leaning back in her seat. This was the most unladylike he could ever remember seeing his cousin. "The staff in my manor keeps taunting me about how it's practically just you and _her_ locked up in this place all the time. I know that you despise humans just as much as I do, but there is only so much a lady can take."

Now he was furious. "I don't care what your household may or may not be implying, but I can assure you that there's nothing fishy going on here," he seethed. "I can't say the same about _your_ house."

For once, Road glared at him. Her face turned a bright shade of red, which was only brought out more by the pale lavender dress. He saw the vein in her right temple bulge in her fury. Neah felt instantly satisfied. "HOW DARE YOU BRING UP THAT FILTHY EXCUSE OF A GUARDIAN!" she shrieked. Sanjiv leaned forward, truly intrigued now. "THIS IS NOT ABOUT UNCLE SHERIL AND AUNT LULUBELL. IT'S ABOUT THAT STUPID _BITCH_ THAT WORKS IN THE KITCHEN. _I_ AM YOUR FIANCE, AND _I_ DON'T WANT TO SEE HER ANYMORE. AS SOON AS YOUR MOTHER PASSES I'M GETTING RID OF HER."

Neah stood and slammed both fists on the table. "IF YOU DIDN'T WANT TO SEE HER ANYMORE WHY DID YOU EVEN COME HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?" roared Neah.

"FINE!" she screamed. Road threw her tea cup on the ground causing it to shatter. "THIS ISN'T OVER, THOUGH! I'LL HAVE MY WAY IN THE END. MAKE NO MISTAKE ABOUT THAT!" She stormed out the door. Seconds later Neah heard her coach pulling away.

He pushed his tussled black hair out of his face. Neah felt much better now that Road was gone, though he knew there would be hell to pay for it later. He noted that for someone who wasn't real, Road could still cause one massive headache. Sanjiv was giving him an appraising look. "Don't even start," Neah snapped.

He left Sanjiv at the table and went upstairs. It was approximately half past nine: time to say good morning to his mother. Neah gave a light knock on the door and then opened it a crack. His mother turned towards the streak of bright light that now entered her room. "Rory?" she asked in a very weak voice, even weaker than that of Cornelia.

Neah felt his spirits fall. Every day it was the same routine. "No," he replied. "It's Neah."

His mother didn't seem to register this fact. "You came back," she cried, extending an arm to Neah.

"Mother-" he began to say.

"I love you," she breathed. "I never told you that enough, but I love you, Rory. I don't care that you're not as strong as your older brothers. Please, just always stay by my side."

"I'm Neah, Mother," he stated.

His mother looked at him again, and then her face fell. He really hated seeing that damn look of disappointment every morning. She really had some nerve taunting the Noah of Destruction like that.

"Oh," she replied. She didn't even apologize. Without another word she turned her back to the door.

"Good morning, Mother," he said. He shut the door behind him and stomped down the stairs. He really wanted to go into the dining room and smash the rest of the tea set that Road had already desecrated, but it would just cause him more grief later. Neah sat himself in front of the piano. Sophia came in at that moment with a fresh vase of flowers for the entrance hall.

"Sophia!" he commanded. She set the vase down on the nearest table. "Sing!"

She walked over and stood next to the piano. Neah played the first chords of the piece he had left open the other day. He felt much better. Music had always done this for him. It didn't matter that the world seemed to hate him right now. As long as he had music to play, music to hear, music to _breath_ he could continue living like this.

"_Pietà, Signore, di me dolente! Signor, pieta se a te giunge il mio pregar_," she sang. Sophia truly had a beautiful voice. It was something he could never say aloud for fear of angering Road. He knew Sophia would only become better and better as she grew older. It was a shame he would always be the only one to hear her sing. Mana and Gitano used to sit in the room when they were children- back before the accident- to listen to him play little ditties so that Sophia could sing along. If they could only hear her now…

Something in the back of his head began to throb terribly. He stopped playing to grasp his head and cradle it in both hands.

"Lord Neah!" Sophia exclaimed. She helped him sit up. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he gasped. "Please, just keep singing." He returned to playing the piano. However, the more that she sang, the worse his head hurt. Sanjiv watched this with an emotionless expression from the door across from the piano. Finally, Neah gave up. "Please stop."

Sophia ran to fetch him a glass of water as he sat there nursing his headache. He gulped the entire thing down, but it still didn't relieve the pain. Out of frustration he threw the song book down on the ground. He started to play again, this time a piece he knew from memory: Scarborough Fair. Neah noticed that this time when Sophia hummed and then began to sing that the headache did not resurface.

His head was filled with so many questions now, but they were questions he couldn't ask anyone here. He was already in debt to Sanjiv; he didn't need to owe the young Bookman more than one favor. Neah doubted that Sophia would understand what was happening to him. She might even be hurt if he told her that her singing might have been related to his headache. There was no way he was asking his mother anything- she'd probably understand less than Sophia.

Neah heard a horse whinny outside. He looked out into the stable and saw the horse he had borrowed from Uncle Adam standing in the stable with his four other horses. Neah now knew exactly who to talk to.

"Sophia, I must return a horse to my uncle," he stated. He stood up from the piano bench. "Fetch me my coat, hat, and gloves."

"Yes, Lord Neah," said Sophia. She left the room to gather his things.

Neah walked up to a mirror hanging on the wall out in the hallway. He combed his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself look more presentable. Sanjiv's reflection appeared in the mirror. "I'm going with you," he announced.

Neah turned to glare at the young Bookman. "No," he said firmly.

"I'm already later than expected," argued Sanjiv. "It will be bad for both of us if I don't have something interesting to tell Bookman when I get back to Paris."

"I've already told you enough," retorted Neah. He walked over to the door.

"And how are you coming home?" inquired Sanjiv. "I don't think you're one to walk a country mile."

Neah clenched his fists. The damn Bookman had gotten him again. As soon as he came home he was taking Sanjiv directly back to Paris and locking the door. "Fine, you take the cart with two horses," he groused.

Sanjiv went outside to hook up the cart and fix the saddle on Uncle Adam's horse. Sophia helped him straighten his shirt and tie, wishing him luck with whatever he was doing today (he realized he was very bad at hiding his emotions). Neah gave himself one last look in the mirror before taking up his walking stick and rushing out the door.

**Alright, this chapter became pretty loaded in the end. Let's have a small discussion about things sort of like the end of chapter one. As of now the story is pretty much officially AU. I did my best to incorporate parts of the new chapter, but it was a stretch at points. The thing with the tree became my focal point because: a) I wanted to show Arienne's more human side, and b) it deals with hers and Road's back story. We'll delve into that more later though. XD**

**This chapter, like the last, didn't have a ton of visible plot development since I needed more of a focus on Neah and his changing views. I also really needed to deal with the issues between him and his mother. Hopefully it seemed realistic enough to you.**

**Anyhow, for any Cross fans out there, he'll be back next chapter. Please review!**


	13. Chapter 13: Gute Nacht

**Yeah, so I was away this weekend, and I had no internet access. Sorry this chapter is late! Anyhow, thanks to ilikedan and WillowC1 for the reviews!**

**The Imaginary Sock**

**Part Thirteen: Gute Nacht**

"_The maiden had a friendly smile_

_The mother had kind words_

_But now the world is dreary_

_With a winter path before me_."

Wilhelm Müller

As soon as they walked into the main hallway Cross could smell something burning. It gave off an awful stench, worse than any potion he had even concocted. He saw the finders around him raise their hands up to their faces to block out the smell. Cross could understand why: the air was very heavy and his face was becoming sticky around his lips. It made him not want to breathe.

Someone held out a piece of cloth in front of his face. He turned to see that the hand belonged to a petite blonde woman. She also wore the silver rose cross on the front of her jacket that fit tightly compared to her wide billowy skirts. "Here," she said. Her voice was muffled, though, since she held another cloth up to her own face. "It will make breathing easier."

He took the cloth and gave her a nod. "Thanks," he replied as soon as it covered his nose and mouth.

Khanna either didn't notice the smell or didn't seem to mind it for he walked forward as if everything was normal. A bearded man in a white coat walked up to the exorcist. "Khanna!" shouted the man through his kerchief. "You've gone and done it again! Every single time we ask you to take another exorcist with you, you refuse. We had to shorten the latest wake to accommodate the Finders you lost in Sicily."

Khanna shrugged and walked around the man. "Each one of those men knew what they were doing," he stated. "If it were not for them then there wouldn't be anyone left from that village. I doubt having another exorcist on the scene would have changed much. You'd still be counting the dead from some other place considering how thin our forces are spread right now."

"Khanna!" yelled the man, turning on his heels to face the Indian exorcist's retreating back.

"I'm tired of this greeting every single time," responded Khanna. "How about you pay more attention to the recruit I brought back? He'll make an excellent medical researcher."

The man balled his fists but turned back to face Cross. "Come with me!" he snapped. For some reason Cross felt it would be a bad choice to argue against this command, so he jogged up to the man in the white coat and continued walking at his heels. He felt like a dog, or like a certain servant boy…

Cross focused on the man's back, trying to wipe out the last of that thought from his memory. He was here to avoid incarceration- damn Khanna- and thinking about the Walkers would not help in that aim.

"So," said the man over his shoulder. He seemed to have calmed down now that they were out of the smoky, stinking hall. "You're interested in working for the science department."

"Yes sir," he lied. "I was working as a medic in the town that was attacked. After Mr. Khanna saw my work he suggested that I consider joining the Black Order."

"Did you train at a medical school?" inquired the man.

"No sir," Cross replied truthfully. "I taught myself."

"That's pretty impressive," mused the man, stroking his thick beard. "I'll have to let Raphael decide whether to let you join his department or not."

They stopped in front of a set of heavy metal doors. Even with the lack of a window Cross could tell what was happening inside since everyone was yelling at each other. The man banged a fist against the door.

A very short man opened the door a crack and poked his head out. He had wild grey hair that stuck up at all angles. A pair of round glasses sat on the edge of his thin nose, looking like they would fall off at any moment. He opened his mouth to speak but then began to cough. After hitting his chest a couple times with a clenched fist he finally spoke in a very soft voice. "Yes?"

"There's a recruit out here to see you, Raphael," stated the man in the white coat.

Raphael straightened his glasses and stepped outside to look at Cross. It made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, for it seemed that the old scientist's eyes were examining not only his appearance but everything about him.

Apparently he was satisfied, for Raphael said, "Why don't you come into my office for an interview?" He gingerly placed a hand on Cross' shoulder to guide him into the main laboratory. They left the man in the white coat out in the hall, probably to continue thinking and rubbing his beard or to go off and hunt down a certain dark-haired exorcist.

The main laboratory was a huge open area that was at least four stories tall. Cross had to crane his neck to count the different balconies that marked the floors. Several scientists in pristine lab coats were standing around a table in the middle of the open area looking over blueprints and smoking. It left a bluish haze that rose up between the metal verandas to block the ceiling from view. Everyone looked up at him and began to whisper as Raphael led him to his office. It was a hidden room with a narrow door, but it was surprisingly spacious.

Raphael had to hop up in order to sit comfortably in his raised chair. He then pulled out a large stack of papers from the top right drawer. Cross began to wonder if Khanna would forgive him and let him go if he failed the interview. For some reason, he doubted it. "Name?" asked Raphael.

"Cross," he replied.

"Cross who?"

"It's just Cross."

"You can't just be Cross. Everyone generally has two names."

"Really, it's just Cross. I don't have any other name."

Raphael frowned but moved on to the next question. "How old are you?"

"I believe I am sixteen," responded Cross.

"You believe?" inquired Raphael, looking at him over the rim of his round glasses. "You either are sixteen or you are not sixteen. Plus that is grossly underage to be working as a scientist."

"I've been working my whole life," stated Cross. "I doubt that's going to change any time soon."

"Good heavens! Working your whole life, you say. Whatever were your parents thinking?" questioned the head scientist.

"If I ever meet them, then I'll let you know," said Cross tersely.

"Oh," replied Raphael. "I suppose that does explain things a bit. I'll just skip your place of birth and hometown as well. Let's see… tell me about your work experience."

Cross decided to skip as many specific details as possible. He doubted the old man would take conditions of servitude or slavery much better than the fact that he had no background. "I've worked at odd jobs mostly. Cleaning things, fixing things, running errands… then I joined a circus."

"You came from the circus?" asked Raphael in complete disbelief. "How did you ever end up here?"

"The circus got blown up, so I'm out of a job," responded Cross truthfully (for the most part). He left out the bit about being blackmailed into joining.

"How do you think these… _experiences_ will help you?" inquired Raphael. He seemed to truly be curious as to what his response would be.

"I learned how to make medical salves and other medical, well, potions," said Cross. "I treated some of the Finders in Sicily, and they brought me back here."

"Alright," said Raphael. He muttered under his breath and began leafing through different pieces of paper.

Before he could say anything else, however, there was a knock at the door. A younger brown-haired scientist came into the room. "Dr. de Orta, the main generator has broken down again," he announced.

Raphael de Orta gave a sigh. "This is the third time this week. I thought someone fixed it."

"We've all tried sir, but we're still getting used to the new electrical system," said the brown-haired scientist.

Raphael stood up and walked towards the door. "I'm afraid we'll have to finish your interview at a later time," he stated. "I must see to it that the generator is fixed properly this time. I'd like you to follow along, though, since I cannot leave you unattended in my office."

Cross noticed that the main laboratory was much dimmer now. There were many more scientists gathered there muttering about some project or another that they needed to get back to and how they should just go back to oil lamps. He followed Raphael to the back of the room where several men stood around a large metal box wearing rubber gloves and goggles to go along with their lab coats. Cross was beginning to think that all the people here looked like mad scientists or crazy old scholars, and he was sure the gloves were not helping their reputation.

"Well?" questioned Raphael.

"We can't fix it, sir," said one of the men, taking off his goggles.

"It looks like we might have overloaded the system," stated another.

"You should tell the guys upstairs to stop playing around with silly things like coffee machines or telephones so that we can actually get some work done," sniffed a third scientist.

"You all are supposed to be the brightest minds on the planet," moaned Raphael softly. He began rubbing his temples. "Are you telling me a little electricity is too hard to handle?"

"Well… yes," quipped some faceless scientist amongst the crowd.

Raphael's face began to turn red. Watching this transition was almost more exciting than seeing Mana try to get a reaction out of Sanjiv when they were in Berlin at Christmas time. Just when it appeared that Raphael would quietly blow his top, someone from the back of the crowd began to shout. "Could I give it a try?"

Some of the scientists began to groan. "Little show-off," muttered the brown-haired man from the office.

A blonde boy who appeared to be close to Cross' age pushed his way through the crowd. He had a very cheerful face with soft features, though he did sport rather small dark eyes. His pale face seemed to glow in the lamp light.

"Not now, Edgar," said Raphael. "Aren't you supposed to be with your father?"

"He's in a meeting with the officials upstairs," replied the blonde boy. "Is this the generator I've heard so much about?"

"Yes," sighed the brown-haired scientist. He took Edgar by the arm and tried to lead him back through the crowd. "How about you wait outside until it's fixed?"

"But I can help!" protested Edgar. "My dad has been working with electricity the past couple years, and I've been helping him. Why can't I give it a shot?"

"Because you're a kid!" shouted the same faceless scientist from before. Cross was beginning to find this guy rather annoying.

He didn't know why, but he decided to intercede. "Why don't you give the kid a shot?" asked Cross.

"It's against protocol," responded Raphael.

"The last thing I knew, we were in a war against giant mechanical monsters that can turn you to dust," said Cross. "I would have thought that you all would jump on any kind of assistance offered to you, but I guess I was wrong."

The scientists began to mutter amongst themselves. They stole furtive glances at Cross and Edgar and then whipped their heads back to continue talking amongst themselves. Cross had to admit that they were pretty chatty, especially for guys who would sit inside and work all day. Finally, Raphael stepped forward. "Alright, Edgar, you may try to fix it. You have one hour. Cross, help him."

Edgar pumped a fist into the air when no one was looking and then picked up some rubber gloves to begin his work. Cross began to regret stepping in for the kid's sake. It appeared that he had unfortunately been hired. Since there was nothing else he could do, he walked over and picked up another pair of the abandoned gloves.

"Could you hand me those pliers?" inquired Edgar. Cross reached into a steel toolbox and pulled the pliers out. "I'm Edgar Chang Martin, by the ways. I don't believe I've seen you around here before, Chris."

"It's Cross," replied Cross. "I'm new here. Just started today actually."

"Really? You seem pretty young for an employee," said Edgar. "I tried to get an apprenticeship here, but they turned me down. It's hard to get into the Central crowd. Good luck. I'm being sent out to the Asian Branch myself to study with my Uncle."

Cross wasn't quite sure how to respond. "That's… nice."

"Yeah, hopefully I'll be useful there," said Edgar. "Damn! I nicked a wire. Could you hand me those wire cutters there? I'll just have to replace it."

"No need," responded Cross. He waved his hand over the wire, and it repaired itself.

"You know magic?" questioned Edgar. His eye's appeared as if they might pop out of his skull from his excitement. "That's a pretty useful skill. I tried learning once myself, but I never had the aptitude. Twi is decent at it, though."

"Twi?" asked Cross.

"She's a distant relative of mine," explained Edgar. "We've been engaged since before the time we were born. It is part of the reason I'm being sent out east. They want us to get to know one another."

Cross thought of another pair of betrothed cousins currently living among England's elite. He hoped that this Twi wasn't nearly as awful as Road. "Well, good luck, I suppose."

"Thanks," said Edgar. His face broke out into a bright smile. He then wiped his hands on a towel nearby. "That should just about do it. Try flipping the switch back there."

Cross was about to do as he was told when he noticed a small metal cylinder on the floor. "What's this?" he questioned.

"Oh, that's a fuse," stated Edgar. "I bet it's been loose this entire time. It's a good thing you found it, otherwise this thing probably would never start up properly."

"But I thought you fixed it," remarked Cross.

"Oh, I did some tune up work, but I had yet to find any huge problems. It sure was fun finally working on this, though. Just get a new fuse out of the bag over there. That one looks like it is shot."

He wasn't sure what to think of Edgar Chang Martin anymore. The kid had just been relying on luck to fix the generator. Cross began to wonder if Edgar had also lied about working with his father. However, when he switched the switch the lights did turn back on, so he supposed he'd have to give the kid some credit. Many of the scientists began to cheer upon the return to normalcy.

"Thank you, you two," said Raphael. Edgar politely thanked the head scientist for the fun and left the laboratory. "I just talked with the Finders and the exorcist you came in with, Cross. I must say, I am impressed with the burn salve. I'm going to move you to the medical research department. First, however, you must be inducted into the Black Order."

"Um… thanks," replied Cross. He was having trouble keeping up with the overload of information from the soft-spoken head scientist.

"Take these papers to the main office on the fifth floor. I'd suggest changing into some nicer clothes first."

"Right," stated Cross. He took a large stack of papers from Raphael and made his way to the main office. There under the watchful gaze of the petite blonde woman from earlier, Cross sold his soul to the Black Order, not thinking he might potentially never get it back.

oOo

If Mana had thought the adults at the circus were bad, then he had yet to meet adults in the real working world. It wasn't the scientists who were bad, though. Most of them were good nerds who didn't have a life outside the laboratory. Cross was even beginning to like working with the men in the medical research department. Sure, they smoked a lot for people concerned about their health, but he found it was a social thing.

One time they even gave him a cigarette to try. It was a bad choice, though, for he almost coughed up a lung. Raphael almost exploded once he learned what had happened. He was the kind of man who treated all his subordinates like they were little school children, and he seemed to be annoyingly concerned about Cross due to his lack of family. Cross knew the man meant well, but it was too late to change the past. He would always be a loner.

It wasn't even the Finders or the Exorcists who were causing him problems. The Finders were often too busy to stop by or even notice his existence. Cross had to admire their work ethic. Most of them were fellows who had lost their friends or families to the Earl and his minions, so they had dedicated their lives to fighting against the darkness. Some of the exorcists could be pompous considering they held a very high status in the Black Order hierarchy. They didn't really socialize with non-exorcists, which was perfectly fine with Cross. It meant that he saw very little of Khanna. The Indian exorcist was more often than not away on a mission either collecting Innocence or battling akuma, but when he did return it would be several days before he would depart once again. Cross couldn't imagine what caused him to return for such a long period of time.

No, the problem was the administration. The higher-ups were annoying as hell. They always gave out orders that would contradict themselves and previous orders from other years. Cross wasn't sure they actually knew what they were doing, yet they ruled the place with an iron fist, especially the Levarier family. They were high up amongst the Central officials and seemed to be running the whole show.

The lower offices were like a jungle. If the higher-ups didn't know what they were doing, then the lower offices were certainly worse. Cross felt that the biggest contributing factor was that the main office was one of the only places where women worked in the Order. He supposed that it was dull only discussing things with other men all the time, so he'd accompany other members of the science department to the upper floors where they could stop by the infirmary to talk with the nurses or the secretaries. Pretty soon, though, Cross was trying to find any way possible to avoid the upper floors. It wasn't that the women up there were rude. On the contrary, they were very friendly.

_Very_ friendly.

The other men resented the fact that Cross was so young. All the secretaries and nurses thought that he was _so_ cute. He was pretty sure he'd have permanent red pinch marks on his cheeks by the end of the month. Plus, they would hold him annoyingly close. Maybe he'd come to appreciate this in time, but right now he didn't really want to even _be_ in the Black Order.

It was like having to deal with twenty sober Jacquelines all the time. They'd cling to him, tell him stories about their day, and make him coffee without even asking. He probably had drunken enough coffee to stay awake for the rest of his life by now, which meant they'd be able to continue telling him about the latest gossip in Headquarters. The worst part of it all was that he was compelled to being polite to all of them.

One day, he became the victim of a rather pretty girl named Gwendolyn. She was the assistant to the petite blonde that worked in communications. Gwendolyn was a nineteen year old brunette from northern England whose father worked as a Finder. She was a nice girl that many of the younger scientists always tried to chat up. On _that_ day Cross was walking down the hall towards the science department minding his own business when he ran into Gwendolyn.

"Hello, Cross," she said sweetly.

He gave her a nod. "Good afternoon," he replied politely. "What brings you up here? Normally there's nobody in this corridor when I pass by."

"I could ask the same of yourself," she stated. Her eyelids batted incessantly. He was about to suggest that she go to the powder room and clean her eye out when she spoke again. "People tend to avoid these parts because the administrative meeting rooms are just around the corner. They don't really like people being in this part."

"But we are," he responded. "I suppose they must be pretty secret meetings if they try to keep people out of here. Then again, the security is pretty awful if that is the case."

"That's true. They only keep a couple guards outside the door if they're in session," she explained.

Cross stole a glance around the nearest corner. Sure enough, there were a couple guards in black uniforms standing outside a door on the far end of the hall. He pulled his head back to avoid being caught. "I'm afraid they are in session. We should go."

They began walking back towards the nearest stairwell when they heard a door open. Several voices began to bounce off the walls as the meeting adjourned. In a panic, Cross pulled Gwendolyn into a nearby closet and shut the door. They waited in silence for several minutes as the officials and the very unobservant guards passed by. He let out a sigh as soon as they exited into the stairwell.

"That was clo-" he began to say. He was cut off, though, because Gwendolyn kissed him very passionately on the mouth. Cross felt his face turn red.

"Thank you for saving me!" exclaimed Gwendolyn after breaking off the kiss. She had her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "I would have been in so much trouble if they had seen me up here!"

"N-no problem?" he stammered. Cross honestly just wanted to fling the door open and run down to the science department and hide in one of the laboratories. They seemed very safe at the moment. Gwendolyn, however, was not letting him go that easily.

"Your expression right now is so cute!" she giggled. She swatted him playfully on the arm. "You seemed so shocked. Wait! Don't tell me you've never kissed anyone before?"

"Um..."

"That's adorable!" she squealed. "I'm quite surprised. My little brother is only twelve and he's already kissed two girls. I'm worried how he'll turn out when he gets older. Father just laughs, though, and says that boys will be boys."

"Okay?" He was wondering if he should just ask her to let him go, but then he realized she'd probably cry. Jacqueline had always cried if he tried to leave her alone while drunk.

"You're not really much of a conversationalist, but I bet I could teach you to be really charming," she said. Gwendolyn nuzzled her head against his chest. "How about it?"

She was a nice girl, but he hardly knew her. From everything he'd ever heard people say, a first kiss was supposed to be something exciting, monument in one's lifetime. He didn't really like Gwendolyn in the way that she seemed to like him. The kiss had caused his insides to flip, but not in the magical sparks-flying kind of way. Cross desperately looked into her blue eyes hoping that he'd find some sort of solution to this current predicament. Unfortunately all he saw was his blushing face reflected in those bright blue eyes. Gwendolyn seemed to take his silence as some sort of agreement, for she began to kiss him again.

He didn't get back to the science department until ten minutes later. It was difficult, but he snuck past all the older scientists to the men's room where he washed off Gwendolyn's lipstick from his face. Despite it being gone, he still felt like it was there as he labored Erlenmeyer flasks filled with multi-coloured chemical concoctions. He decided this was definitely not the proudest moment in his life.

Luckily he did not run into Gwendolyn again that day. In fact, he didn't see her for the next couple days. It was only a week later that he learned from one of the other secretaries that Gwendolyn had been moved to Australian Headquarters. He felt himself sigh in relief.

Cross thankfully never saw Gwendolyn again. However, he'd never forget those big blue eyes. He was determined that Mana would never _ever_ find out about this.

oOo

As nice and friendly as the Black Order seemed to be, they did have their own darkness. It was a darkness that Cross felt was almost as bad as some of the dark things he had seen Neah do during his time at Walker Manor. Every time he saw the groups of small children led to the experimental labs at the other end of the science department, he'd think of Rory clutching his acid-burned arm in pain, tears welling up in his silver eyes.

At first, Cross was curious as to why they needed so many children in the Black Order. He knew that the other scientists weren't fond of having children in the laboratory. Most of them had voted to blockade Edgar out of the science department until he left for China. Some of them would even send _him_ dirty looks as he worked. Cross felt this was grossly unfair seeing as he was practically an adult now. When he found out, though, what they were _doing_ with all those kids...

It was the petite blonde from communications that told him. She was the only woman from the Order that he actually enjoyed talking to since she didn't treat him like a child or want to make out with him in a broom cupboard. Her name was Amaranta. Cross vaguely remembered Khanna mention her name back in Sicily. Amaranta hailed from the Alps in northern Switzerland. He would have thought that she was in her mid-twenties, but apparently she was 32 years old. She'd been working for the Order since her parents had died in an akuma attack. That had been nearly fourteen years ago.

Amaranta knew just about everything about Headquarters and all its branches. That was why he asked her about the children during lunch one day.

Her face became grim and she looked at her hands lying limply in her lap. "You saw them, then," she said.

"Yes," he replied. It was impossible not to see them. "They've had me making burn salve constantly for the past two weeks, and I always see them taking it down there. What are they doing?"

"It's a difficult thing," she stated, shifting in her seat. "The Black Order is desperate to find more exorcists. Right now we are so outnumbered that they're willing to try anything... even experimenting on children to try and make them accomodators."

"They're trying to force them to become accomodators for Innocence?" he repeated. "I thought that was impossible."

"It probably is," she agreed. Her warm brown eyes continued to stare down into her lap.

"Then why try," muttered Cross under his breath. He glared at the back of some official's head. "Those bastards..."

oOo

A few days later he was asked to come up to the medical wing to assist the doctors. They were short on staff at the moment considering how badly the experiments were going. Every bed was full of little children covered in bandages, moaning in pain. He tried not to look them in the eyes. Cross didn't want to see the pain in their eyes.

He was assigned to take care of a little African boy. The boy couldn't have been more than two years old, but still he didn't cry out as Cross spread the salve on his wounds. "What's your name?" asked Cross. He was trying to get his mind off the burn marks.

The boy didn't respond. His big brown eyes stared blankly at Cross' face.

Cross decided to try again. "Well, how old are you, kid?" he inquired.

Again the kid said nothing. Either the boy was a mute, in too much pain to speak, or was being plain annoying. This was going to be annoying. Cross decided to check for more burns so that he could hopefully move on to the next patient very quickly.

"Alright, take off your shirt, kid," he said. "I need to check your back."

Thankfully the kid wasn't acting deaf as well and did as he was told. Just like on his arms there were burns all over his chest and back. These burns, however, were worse. They gave his rich chocolate color skin an even darker tint with hints of red and purple. The kid also had some lacerations on his sides. If Cross had been a weaker man, he might have wanted to vomit. Being who he was, though, all he did was take a deep breath and exhale as quietly as possible, trying to keep his emotions under control.

He looked the kid up and down. From the looks of it, Cross didn't believe he could make it through another round of experiments. The kid's ribs were already clearly visible through his skin and his limbs were like toothpicks. His mouth hung open like a fish, letting Cross hear his shallow breathing.

Cross decided to be a Good Samaritan for once and call over a doctor. "Doctor, could you take a kid a look at this kid?" he questioned.

The young doctor that came over checked the kid's pulse and then pulled out his stethoscope. After five minutes of examination he turned to Cross. "I don't see anything wrong with him."

"You don't see anything wrong?" inquired Cross incredulously.

"There's nothing wrong with him that isn't wrong with the others," clarified the doctor, turning his back on Cross. "Don't get too attached."

Cross didn't know what was wrong with the guy. He had seen the other kids and none of them had been quite as unhealthy looking as this one. Sure, if he had his druthers, then Cross would send them all home, but he didn't have any say in these experiments. He supposed the young doctor didn't have much of a say either. If he could only convince someone that could convince everyone else, then this kid might have time to recover.

The door to the infirmary opened and in walked the scientists running the experiments. Most of the looked pale and sick, not much better than the children who were being experimented upon, but there was one man who seemed perfectly normal. Cross recognized this man to be the head of the experimental department, Henry DeMaure. He was in the back of the group of scientists leading a group of nonscientists through the infirmary. It would be a risk, but it was now or never.

"Dr. DeMaure?" asked Cross. The man walked over to him.

"Yes?" inquired the plump old man.

"I was wondering if I could have your opinion on this boy's _progress_ in the experiment," he stated in the most formal way possible.

Dr. DeMaure fixed a pair of bifocals onto his face. He picked up a chart at the foot of the bed. "It's true that this child hasn't seen as much progress as the others, but it hasn't been as bad as others. I'd say he's good to go through to the next round."

It appeared that the Black Order had pretty low standards for what was 'good'. Cross was about to snap at the guy and get himself fired when someone interrupted. "Good?" scoffed a familiar deep voice. "You think this tyke is good? Let me see him stand if he's ready to go on."

Indivar Khanna stood in the doorway of the Head Nurse's office, his left arm in a sling. He was scowling at the back of Dr. DeMaure's head and used no effort to hide it when the man finally turned around.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Khana," seethed Dr. DeMaure. "If you don't mind, I must finish this tour for our patrons, so if you'd just mind your own business-"

"I think this _is_ my business," retorted Khanna. "There's a remote chance that this kid could be assigned to my team someday, and I'm not taking little weakling shrimps. You bookworms have no idea what it takes to be an exorcist, so perhaps I should elaborate."

Khanna threw his sword on the ground in front of the kid. The boy cringed in his bed. Cross was surprised Khanna hadn't thrown his sword _at_ the kid at this point.

"An exorcist is many things. In the beginning we were tasked with banishing demons. Today, however, we are charged with the task of fighting the forces of the Millennium Earl: akuma," said Khanna. He began to pace in front of the Dr. DeMaure and the patrons, his black hair swinging slightly with each step. "Akuma take on the identities of the people who summon them, blending in with the rest of the human race while secretly killing the people around them. They can launch bullets filled with the akuma virus that causes extreme pain until you are reduced to dust. You must be quick, relentless, and strong- not just in body but in the mind and spirit as well. Finally, exorcists are the warriors of God. We all know gentlemen, that He works in mysterious ways. Only God decides who His warriors will be, for an exorcist must be willing to give up his life to do His work. Now, do you honestly think that this kid, who won't even talk, can become an exorcist?"

The kid looked about ready to faint. It seemed that he was able to follow every word that Khanna had said. Cross could feel the mattress shaking as the kid shivered, tears welling up in his dull brown eyes.

"Pick up that sword," demanded Khanna. He stopped pacing and stared directly into the kid's fearful eyes. Cross hoped the kid wouldn't wet the bed. He didn't want to clean that up.

Beads of sweat dripped down Dr. DeMaure's round face as he watched his test subject. The patrons leaned in, very interested to see how this exchange would end.

Finally, the kid fainted. Cross had been waiting for it to happen. It seemed that Khanna's dark side had won this contest. The patrons began to mutter amongst themselves.

Dr. DeMaure turned red in the face. "I'll send the deferral to Dr. de Orta," he snapped. "I don't want to see this kid in my lab or anywhere around Headquarters after this. There's no point of him being here if he's no longer part of the experiment. You there, take him to Rome tomorrow." Dr. DeMaure pointed a shaky finger at Cross. With that said, he stormed out of the infirmary with the patrons nodding their approval.

The only problems now were that he had a kid on his hands for the next twenty-four hours and that he was in debt to Khanna. He didn't know which one was worse. "Thanks," he stated gruffly to Khanna.

"I hate DeMaure," replied Khanna. "At least he finally got a bit of what's coming to him. Any man who can talk about everything like it's just another experiment… I'm surprised he's even with the Black Order. I'd suggest steering clear of him for now on."

"Right," responded Cross. "What am I supposed to do with this kid in Rome?"

"I think he just wants you to leave him there," said Khanna. "They'll take away his memory of the Order and then just expect you to leave him on the street."

"They just want me to abandon him in the middle of the city?" inquired Cross.

"Yeah," replied Khanna. "Nothing fancy. Just keep it simple. If you're lucky the kid might even be asleep."

Cross was about to remind Khanna about how evil he really was when someone hit the exorcist over the head with a broom. He whirled around and used his uninjured arm to draw his sword. "Don't you dare chop up my cane, Indivar!" hissed a middle-aged woman. Her mousy brown hair was tied up in a loose bun. She was somewhat pale, which made the lines on her face stand out, many of them being frown lines. Cross had seen her in the back of the group of patrons. "I'll make you replace it, and believe me I won't make it easy."

"You stupid old bat!" snapped Khana, rubbing the bump forming on the back of his head. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"You deserve much more than that, telling him to just abandon the child out there," sneered the middle-aged woman. "Don't try to step in on the child's behalf if you're not going to stick with your decision the whole way. You're going to get what's coming to _you_ just like DeMaure if you don't stop using things for your own gain. Perhaps I'll just cut away some of my funding for you."

Khanna muttered incoherently under his breath. The old woman raised her cane again, but this time he ducked his head. She seemed satisfied and then turned to Cross. He readied himself to fend off any cane-related attacks.

"I suppose that Indivar is responsible for bringing you here, young man," said the woman. Cross nodded silently, not wishing ruin this stroke of luck. It didn't seem like he'd be sporting a bump to match a certain exorcist. "Well, I'm sorry about that. I won't pry into whatever situation brought you here. You may call me 'Mother'- at least that's what most people call me. I am Indivar's patron."

"I-I'm Cross," he stammered, offering a hand out to her. "Scientist."

She shook it. "Well, it's nice to meet you," Mother responded. "Now, what are you going to do about this child?"

Cross thought about it for a moment. "I suppose if the kid is here, then either his parents are gone, or they wanted him to be gone," he reasoned. "I could see if any of the orphanages in Rome will take him. They might ask questions about where he came from, though."

"What, are you going to adopt him?" asked Khanna sarcastically.

"I'm sixteen," stated Cross. "There's no way that I'm adopting a kid."

"That's rather cold. I actually thought for a moment there that you would actually be a gentleman, Cross. And Indivar, stop making irrational suggestions," reprimanded Mother. Khanna scowled at her back as she turned away. "Well, I don't see anyone in the Order being generous, especially not that one behind me, so I suppose I'll teach you boys a lesson in generosity."

"You're going to adopt him?" questioned Cross.

"That poor kid," mumbled Khanna. He rubbed the bump on his head again.

"Yes," she replied. She looked down at his chart. "Barba will be coming home with me. Of course, I hope he likes the cold because I'll be returning to Liverpool. If you ever are travelling that way or if you get transferred feel free to stop by whenever you want."

Cross was pleasantly surprised how well things had gone for him in this circumstance. He'd saved a life and given Mother a family to call her own. She had even opened her doors for him to visit. Perhaps he really would stay in touch with someone besides Mana for once in his life.

**And here enters Mother and Barba. That part was the first part I planned, but it was the hardest to write. So I just kept going with the other stuff. XD Anyhow, I thought Cross' first kiss would be a funny thing to add. The Poka-Dotted Sock had asked how Cross was going to become the booze drinking womanizer that he is today. Well, there's the first step on the road. Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14: An Epitaph

**Okay, I'm finally in the zone for writing this. I was having difficulty getting in the right mindset to write something this deep, but I've finally gotten there. Anyhow, thanks to ilikedan and Kuraun Kuraun for reviewing the last chapter.**

**The Imaginary Sock**

**Part Fourteen: An Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchester**

"_Yet had the number of her days  
__Bin__ as __compleat__ as was her praise,  
Nature and fate had had no strife  
In giving limit to her life_."

John Milton

Uncle Adam was in his study when Neah arrived at the house with Sanjiv. His uncle's house was not nearly as large as the Camelot's or Walker Manor, but it seemed to suit the man. He wasn't the kind to host parties or gossip like his other family members, so all Uncle Adam really needed were the basic rooms plus a few extra: the kitchen, the dining room, a parlor, a bedroom, a study, an extra room for the rare overnight guest, and his laboratory in the basement.

He stood to greet Neah when the akuma butler announced his arrival. "Neah, I was very worried about you last night," said his uncle. Uncle Adam walked over and patted him on the back. "Feeling better today?"

"Yes," replied Neah. It was somewhat true, although he was still experiencing the crisis in his mind. "How about yourself?"

"I'm just recuperating. You know that I've never been as fond of parties as Sheril, Lulubell, and Tykki," chuckled Uncle Adam. He gestured to an open armchair. Neah walked over, pushed out the tails of his coat, and sat down. "I see that Junior is still with you."

"I was too tired to return him to Paris last night," stated Neah. "He came with me to return the horse."

"Right," responded his uncle. He adjusted his round glasses on his nose to better look at Neah. It made him want to gulp. "Are you sure you're alright, Neah?"

He knew that he would have to ask now or just forget about asking his questions all together. "Well," he began, "I was a bit curious about something- and confused as well- so I was wondering if you could clarify something to me."

His uncle leaned forward in his chair. "Of course," he said. "Ask away."

Neah thought about his word choice for a moment before speaking again. "I know that our clan has been fighting the war for the last seven millennia, and I know what the war basically boils down to, but I don't even know how it began. It's hard to truly understand the value of all of this when I don't even know how the conflict came to be."

His uncle stared at him blankly for a moment. Neah felt his ears begin to turn red. He really shouldn't have asked. Now his uncle would probably be mad at him. He glanced at Sanjiv sitting in the corner of the study. The young Bookman was flipping through some novel pretending that he was not hanging upon every single one of their words.

Uncle Adam smiled. It wasn't the maniacal grin of his Millennium Earl form, rather it was a genuine smile. "You know, Neah," replied his uncle, "out of all the Noah I have met for the last seven thousand years, you are the first to ask that question. I like that. It truly is bothersome to have a family working _for_ you rather than _with_ you. Blind trust can be such a fickle thing. Since you have asked, I am more than willing to tell you the reason. Of course, keep in mind, this reason will be a heavy burden. It has been a weight on my shoulders for the last seven millennia. Do you still want to hear the tail?"

Neah placed a hand on Uncle Adam's arm. "_Don't push yourself too hard_," he said. "_I'll be by your side no matter what happens_. You're part of my family, so I want to help you. You can tell me."

oOo

He let Sanjiv drive the cart back to Walker Manor after he bid his uncle farewell for the day. The first half of their journey was completely silent as both of them reflected upon what Uncle Adam had said. It was truly a remarkable story.

Neah couldn't help but be... disappointed. He was glad to know the truth behind it all, but his uncle's story had not smothered the qualms in his heart like he thought it would. The truth had only served to make the protests louder.

"It is rather messed up, isn't it?" he asked Sanjiv.

The redhead continued looking forward with unblinking emotionless dark eyes. "I don't have an opinion on the matter," he replied. "Though, you may keep judging it as you see fit. I'm just after the facts. Bookman will be interested in this."

"How can you not have an opinion on this matter?" Neah growled. He scowled at the young Bookman. After everything they had just heard, he couldn't believe that Sanjiv didn't care. Neah thought of a different boy, one with auburn hair, who at this point would probably have called the local constable or driven the cart through the front of Uncle Adam's house. Those were proper reactions to what the Earl was planning. "No matter what your credo might be, this does involve you."

Sanjiv's knuckles were white as he clenched the reigns. "Don't make me think about this on a personal level, Neah," he hissed. "I have no opinion on the matter nor do I intend to develop one."

"Yeah right," huffed Neah. He looked at the landscape as they continued on in silence. It really was a shame that he intended to destroy something so beautiful. Perhaps this agitation was what the Bookmen truly felt. He was certain that it was what Gitano had felt. Neah almost regretted all those lectures he had given in his childhood. Back then the whole idea of his family destroying the exorcists and their Innocence had seemed like the right thing to do. Now the world was turned on edge. He wasn't quite sure what was right and wrong anymore.

Uncle Adam seemed to have his own idea, and considering the truth of his Clan and the Innocence it did seem fair... for them. However, Neah couldn't say that it was fair to condemn the entire planet. Something inside him told him that it wasn't fair to condemn his own kind. Although he was a Noah, he was also human.

Plus, Neah felt there was still something missing. Some piece of the puzzle did not quite fit, and it was prodding him in the back of his skull. He knew that his mother had helped complete this generation of the Clan of Noah- he didn't know why- but he didn't know what role he and his brothers had been meant to play. There were only thirteen Noah, but here he was, the Fourteenth. It was because he was number fourteen that he was special... Uncle Adam definitely thought so.

He grasped the side of the cart, careful not to pinch his gloved hand between the rough wooden sides and the wheel. Neah was suddenly very angry. This time, however, it wasn't at Cross, his brothers, his mother, the human race, or himself. He was angry with his family. He _despised_ the very idea of what they stood for, and now he hated Uncle Adam. It was funny thinking back upon how much he had looked up to the man, and how this admiration had disappeared in the period of a couple hours. Neah felt bitter and completely isolated.

Neah needed to talk to someone, someone who was not totally involved. He thought about taking the Ark to Venice, but then thought better of it. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if his brother's childhood personality resurfaced and punched him in the face. Cross wouldn't be a good choice either since Sanjiv didn't know where on the mainland he was headed. The magician was also likely to throw him out a window. He'd totally deserve it, though.

It was at this time that he wished that he had left Rory alone like Mana had said. Rory would have been more than willing to talk to him. Also, if Rory were here then he'd still have his mother. Maybe she would actually have a sensible reaction to Uncle Adam's scheme. Howeve, there was the chance that she would actually support him...

It all came back to the thought in the back of his mind, the question that he had asked only once. All of it came back to who he was. For some reason, Neah felt he knew the answer. This truth, however, was possibly worse than the one he now knew. It was a truth he didn't want to admit...

oOo

It was early evening by the time Neah arrived in Paris with Sanjiv. Lamplighters ran about the streets mingling with the soot-covered crowd of factory workers walking home from a long day of work. The Bookmen were living in a small flat on a pleasant tree-lined alley on the outskirts of the capital. It was a two room place that was filled to the brim with books, scrolls, newspaper clippings, and a large assortment of other kinds of media.

Bookman, of course, was not pleased to see them. "You said that you'd be returning this morning," stated the old man. Sanjiv did not look up from the decorative rug on the floor, causing the old man to cuff him upside the head. "I told you that there were many things to be done today. Now we have lost precious time thanks to you and your laziness."

"Laziness?" inquired Sanjiv. "Is that what you call it now, old man?"

"Yes," grumbled the old man. He glared at his apprentice through narrowed eyes. "Laziness and irresponsibility. It makes me wonder just how dedicated you are to your apprenticeship and to the duty of the clan."

Neah was impressed to see Sanjiv's eye twitch. Normally the guy was pretty silent and impassive like he had been this afternoon at Uncle Adam's house. Now their positions were switched and it was him watching Sanjiv. He supposed that this must be what it feels like to be a Bookman.

Sanjiv turned on his heel and walked to the other room. "I'll be working on my log," he said stiffly.

Neah heard the door shut and the lock turn. Bookman sighed as he made his way back to the table in the middle of the main room. It was a couple minutes before either of them spoke. "Well, what are you still doing here, Neah Walker?" asked Bookman.

Neah gave a polite bow. "I apologize for returning him so late," he stated. He could feel Bookman's eyes drilling into the back of his lowered head. "It was entirely my fault."

"I doubt that," responded Bookman.

Neah heard the old man take up a fountain pen and begin to write. Apparently he was not very interested in whatever Sanjiv had been doing for the past two weeks. He'd just have to do his best to make the old man interested. After all, it looked like Sanjiv would have a difficult time getting any information out of the old geezer for a while. He turned to 'examine' one of the books on the table. "I went to see my uncle today."

"Really," replied Bookman, though his eyes didn't leave the paper.

"Yes," he said. "That's why I was late bringing Sanjiv back to Paris. While we were there, my uncle told me a most fascinating story..."

"Mmhmm."

That had not done the trick quite yet, so he would have to dangle a carrot in front of Bookman's nose. "It was about _before_ the war," he elaborated. He heard Bookman's pen stop scratching the paper. The geezer's eyes were now on him. Perfect. "You'll want to see that log of his."

"Sanjiv," called the old man.

The door to the other room opened a crack. "What?" asked Sanjiv.

"I want to see your log when you're done," stated Bookman.

"Why?" inquired Sanjiv. Neah thought he saw a hint of frustration in the younger Bookman's eyes. He'd have to come around here more often. They were much more interesting whenever his family was not around.

"Apparently you've recorded something rather significant," said Bookman.

"Maybe I did," retorted Sanjiv.

Bookman sighed. "Will you come out here and work on it? It seems that he has other things he wishes to discuss."

Sanjiv emerged silently from the bedroom with a leather-bound book in tow. "I'd start with someone named Cornelia," he suggested. "That is, if you know her. If not he'll have to come back another day." He opened the book and began writing.

"So you met Cornelia," said Bookman. The old man folded his hands in front of him on the table.

"I didn't meet her, per se, but I saw her," he replied. "Who is she? From what I could tell she and Road-"

"They are the same person," clarified Bookman. "As long as Cornelia is asleep, Road exists. However, if she were to remain awake for too long, then Road would disappear."

"They were pretty close to that last night," stated Neah. "Cornelia woke up upstairs, and at the same time Road fainted. She said something about being too emotional."

"They're opposites," explained Bookman. "Road is Cornelia's dream. She does everything that Cornelia cannot do herself. Road is loud and lively while Cornelia is weak and bed-ridden. Anything she desires is for Road to have. Of course, it's not perfect. Her powers cannot make _every_ one of her desires come true."

Neah thought about her limp hair and her lack of musical talent. Those flaws definitely showed that last point. "I think she's somehow connected with my mother. There's a tree outside in the fields that my mother always called Cornelia."

"Cornelia was the daughter of two members of the Campbell family staff back when your mother lived in the house alone," said Bookman. Neah felt his eye open in shock. "One day she began to do some strange things. Her parents became worried and alerted a local priest. With his help they locked Cornelia away to prevent the 'other demons' from finding her. They created a sort of chamber under the Campbell family estate to hide her. Very few knew about the place except for the priest and those residing in the Manor. This lasted about two years, during which everyone else forgot there had once been a girl named Cornelia. One person, though, still remembered the child."

"My mother," interrupted Neah.

"Yes," responded Bookman with a nod. "One day, Adam came to these parts looking for the child. The Clan had sensed her awakening, but because of the actions of Cornelia's parents and the priest, they had been unable to find her. For some reason your mother told them where to find Cornelia, and as a reward she was granted a special amnesty amongst the clan. The priest and the other members of the household staff vanished the night Cornelia escaped."

"I suppose they killed them," muttered Neah.

"A very likely theory," agreed Bookman. "Soon after that, your mother married and left the estate to her cousin Cyrus."

Neah let this all sink in before asking another question. "Do you know why she told him?" he questioned.

"I record the facts that I've heard," replied Bookman. "No one I've interviewed seems to know the reason. I'd suggest asking your mother. She is the only one I have not interviewed about this incident."

For once in his life, Neah thought to ask a question that had always been burning in the back of his mind. "You said that my mother married soon afterwards," he said. "Who did she marry?"

He saw the right corner of Bookman's mouth curl up. "I believe that that is a question for another day," he responded. "Perhaps once Sanjiv has finished his log."

That was a shame. Neah was sure the entire tale would take at least a week to write down. "That's too bad," he stated. "Maybe you could satisfy my curiosity on some other subject."

"It depends," replied Bookman. "What do you wish to hear?"

"Let's go for an eye for an eye," decided Neah. "Tell me everything that you know about Uncle Adam."

oOo

_He opened his eyes to a silent world. The wind did not whisper, and his breaths came out as silent puffs of air. Neah couldn't even feel the silent puffs of air, let alone see them, yet he knew he was still breathing. The silence was stifling to the point that he felt afraid. It was a feeling to which he was slowly becoming accustomed. Still, Neah had never wanted to live in a silent world.  
It wasn't hot or cold in this place. He'd give anything, though, just to feel something for a moment. Neah wasn't even sure if he was sitting, standing, lying down, or floating in oblivion since he felt no pressure. Upon looking down, he saw that he was standing on a slab of ancient, crumbling wall that had collapsed. This wall was in the middle of what appeared to be an endless lake where many other ruins stood, rotting away into the still water.  
He looked down into the water. The stillness made it function as a kind of mirror, sort of like looking into a window pane in a lit room at midnight. His face grinned madly up at him reminding Neah very much of his beloved uncle's disguise. He couldn't fathom how his face looked so happy when he felt nothing but despair in the silent world. Neah picked up a small rock and threw it at his reflection, causing the surface of the water to ripple. The smile in his reflection began to waver.  
Then he looked up. He found there were suddenly many people around him: the entire Clan of Noah. Uncle Jasdero and Uncle Devit were running around wildly, grinning like he had moments before. He couldn't hear their hollars. Uncle Wisely sat on top of a pillar in a meditative pose, yet Neah could not hear the quick words tumbling out of his mouth. Uncle Tykki and Aunt Lulubell clinked glasses while Uncle Sheril fumed behind them, nursing his own glass of white wine. For once, Aunt Lulubell was smiling. Neah, however, could neither hear the wine glasses connect nor Sheril's whispers into Aunt Lulubell's ear. Uncle Fiidora lay on his back whistling some merry tune. Uncle Skinn threw rocks at Uncle Jasdero and Uncle Devit. Nothing. Uncle Maashiima and Uncle Toraido walked over broken glass and debris in bare feet leaving bloody footprints that were too well-defined to have been caused by just the glass. Uncle Maitora sat somewhat close by, prodding the water with one long slender finger. Shadowy hands reached up to his uncle, but he batted them away and watched with glee as they sunk back into their watery grave._

_Road sang to herself loudly as she skipped through the still water like a fairy, but he still couldn't hear that. He was glad, though, that he couldn't hear that._

_Uncle Adam stood atop the tallest ruin in this world with his arms raised over his head. He was in his form as the Earl, macabre grin spread across his face as he announced their victory. Neah just wished that he would change back into his other form. The Millannium Earl was not the man he had always thought of as his dear Uncle Adam._

_He didn't see his mother, the Bookmen, or Sophia there. It felt surprisingly empty not seeing one of their faces staring intently at him. He had grown accustomed to hearing their voices, feeling their glances, sensing their presence... but today he felt nothing. It was an awful nothing._

_Neah tried to call out to his uncle to ask about his mother and the others, but his voice didn't come. He tried yelling and screaming, waving his arms about madly. His family didn't seem to notice. Perhaps they were all just crazy. Maybe he was crazy. It could even have been that the entire world had gone insane._

_He would have felt alright if a piano were there. As long as he had music..._

_But this world was silent. He would never have music again. Neah could write as many compositions as he wanted, but he would never know the sound they would make. Never again would he hear the laughing tone of a scherzo, the melancholy of an etude, or listen to the soothing sound of Sophia singing a lullaby while putting his mother to bed._

_It was then that he finally felt something besides the despair welled up in his chest. There was something running down his face, something wet. He reached a hand up to touch it, and was relieved that it wasn't the crimson color of blood. It was a clear liquid. His tears._

_True, it was bizarre that he could go from grinning madly only minutes before to crying, but he really didn't care. All he really wanted was some sound, anything to break him out of this silent world..._

oOo

Neah sat up in his bed. His breathing was ragged, he was covered in sweat, and he still wore the clothes he had worn to Uncle Adam's house just yesterday. He was very nervous, for it was still very quiet. Neah was tempted to to pick up the bell on his table and give it a ring just to hear some sound (although it would wake Sophia and quite possibly his mother), but then he heard a bird begin to sing outside. Rushing over to the window, he threw it open.

The sun was just rising over the golden fields, causing the very edge of them to glow. A couple birds flew overhead over the field and landed on one of the higher branches of Cornelia the tree. Neah sighed inwardly as he continued to watch the sun rise.

"_How hideous_," said the Inner Noah.

"No," stated Neah, "it really is wonderful."

He leaned against the window ledge and listened to the birds sing the praises of the early morning. The sun continued to climb higher over the fields, basking the wheat below in flaming golden glory. Neah had never woken up this early to watch the sun rise. He could now see why painters and poets both raved about them.

"_You sound like a romantic fool_," quipped the Inner Noah.

"At least I'm appreciating life," retorted Neah. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes as the sun reached eye-level.

"_What good is it_?" asked the Inner Noah. "_We're all as good as dead thanks to the Earl's plan_."

"It is a terrible plan," Neah agreed. "He has some nerve thinking that he could actually-"

"_I could do better_," stated the Inner Noah.

"That's only because you would destroy everything, even the Clan," said Neah.

"_Why don't we_?" inquired the Inner Noah.

"Why don't we what?"

"_Kill the Clan_," elaborated the Inner Noah. "_Then you could go along your merry way and I'll leave you alone for a while_."

Neah was aghast. "They're my family!"

"_You don't see it that way_," taunted the Inner Noah. "_Not anymore_."

"We are different," admitted Neah. He was very different from his family. Neah wasn't sure when it had started, but he wasn't the same as last year. Whether it was because of his own volition or because of a certain brother of his he wasn't quite sure.

"_**Open your eyes and see the world for yourself. When you find your own side of this whole mess, then I will follow you wherever that may take me**_."

"I'll just have to find my own way," he decided.

"_We will_," clarified the Inner Noah. "_You're stuck with me until you die, so don't you ever forget about me_."

"We will," repeated Neah, although it pained him to admit his ball and chain.

oOo

Whenever he was done doing the Earl's dirty work these days, Neah would try his best to avoid his family. At first just staying in Walker Manor did the trick, but then they all decided to make house calls. He cursed his guilty conscience as he had to endure Road, Uncle Tykki, Uncle Fiidora, Uncle Jasdevi and Uncle Debito, and finally even Uncle Sheril and Aunt Lulubell. The only result of these house calls were a dropped tea set- Sophia could barely stand straight let alone serve his guests- and several bad headaches. Uncle Tykki even sent an invitation out to his Uncle Cyrus, apparently hoping that the eccentric man would cause Neah to be more sociable. The man thankfully never replied, so that disaster was averted.

He soon found other places to hide, such as the flat where Bookman and Sanjiv were staying and his room on the Ark. His family didn't care enough to think that he might actually be visiting the unsociable humans that were always about during their war meetings, and none of them knew about his secret room. Neah knew exactly where to find his family's rooms, but the location of his room would be something he would take to his grave. Uncle Adam had told him earlier in his childhood that it was his room, so he could do what he wanted with it. He supposed that man had never thought that a member of his clan would keep their room a secret forever.

Of course, his room brought back many bad memories. He hadn't really used it all that often after the incident with Rory since all he would see in the room was his missing twin brother's face and his raw red arm… Neah had only wanted to remove the embedded Innocence… He had tried picking it out with tweezers and burning it off with one of the many potions Uncle Adam kept in his lab… It was then he became desperate and felt that the only solution would be to cut his hand off… He hadn't _meant_ for Rory to disappear or even die…

It was all entirely his fault. Neah now knew that no matter what, this secret fact would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Rhian had cleaned to place up the day after the incident, and he would occasionally let first her and then Sophia into his secret room to dust it after that. Sophia had to come in more often these days to clean the place up or bring him food, for he would sit in there for hours playing the piano. If he kept this up, then this piano would soon be more worn than the old one in the sitting room. He wouldn't mind that. Neah always felt at peace sitting in this room alone, playing old pieces or writing new compositions. Only when Sophia would call out to him from his bedroom door did he know that it was time to sleep.

It was because of this that he was greatly peeved to be called back at lunchtime one afternoon in late June. First off, the air was terribly sticky for the weather grew hot as soon as summer arrived this year. His room on the Ark was always the temperature he wanted it to be, so he'd grown accustomed to wearing a suit coat at all times. Second, the silly girl had called him back to talk to his mother.

"She doesn't understand anything," he grumbled as he followed Sophia to his mother's room.

"I know, Lord Neah," replied Sophia. She bowed her head as she led him through the hallway. "There was something _odd_ about the way that she looked at me today, sir. I didn't know what it meant, but I felt it best to have you see her before I call a doctor."

"Fine," he groused. Sophia opened the door for him to enter his mother's chambers. Just like on every other day the curtains were drawn to cast the room in shadow. His mother lay in her bed with her back to the door. She turned to face him and blinked as she gazed into the light for what must have been the first time that day. "Good afternoon, Mother."

She blinked at him, but did not speak. Sure, he was glad the woman had not called him Rory, but it was annoying to just stand there and watch her blink. He decided to leave and tell Sophia to call a doctor, even though the doctor would only confirm that his mother was now a mute.

"N-Neah," said a voice clearly.

He turned on his heels to face his mother again. She was no longer blinking, her gaze now strongly set on him. "Mother?" he asked. Neah wasn't quite sure what to say. It was probably a fluke, but he desperately wanted her to speak again.

"Neah," repeated his mother. Her voice made her sound very assured, very much like the grand lady she had once been. She extended a hand to him. "Please, come sit by me."

He advanced slowly like a newborn deer first trying out its legs. Neah took his mother's hand and held it firmly between his hands. He took the chair by her bedside. "Mother…" he began to say.

"I'm so sorry, Neah," she sniffled, tears forming in her silver eyes. "I wanted him to come back so badly. He was my baby boy."

"I know, Mother," he responded. He was still trying to determine what he should be feeling at this moment. His mother had recognized him for the first time in almost seven- no, it was coming close to eight- years. "Rory was always special."

"And so were you and Mana," she stated. He blinked. Neah was surprised that his mother even remembered his older brother. She hadn't said his name since the day Mana had 'betrayed the family' and ran away from home. "They're not coming back, are they?"

"Rory is alive, Mother," he assured her. "He just can't find his way home. I can't say the same for Mana, though."

"He was always a good boy," she sighed. "A bit rough around the edges, but when he would smile… you remember the way Mana used to smile."

"I do, Mother," he replied. He recalled the day out in the fields when Mother and Mana had played that trick on him. It was the last time he could recall Mana smiling at him. Neah wondered vaguely if Mana still smiled like that.

"I hope that he's happy," Mother said. "I wanted the three of you to always be happy. I'm afraid, though, that I caused you a lot of trouble, Neah."

He patted her hand. "It wasn't your fault, Mother," he stated. "It wasn't Rory or Mana's fault either. It was-"

"It is my fault, Neah," she declared. "I woke up this morning and for the first time I realized that Rhian wasn't here. Where is she?"

He paused before saying, "She's been dead for two years, Mother."

"I was so scared, Neah," she mumbled. "I didn't know what to say to the girl who came in here. When I looked up into her eyes, trying to remember who she was, I saw someone who was more frightened than even me."

"Sophia Maria has always been terrified of practically everyone in the family, Mother," explained Neah.

"That was Sophia?" she questioned. "The little girl who worked at the Camelot's estate?"

"Yes," he said.

His mother began to cry. "Why did I do all this?" she questioned. "You're all so young… and I have cursed all of you for life. You, Mana, Rory, Sophia, even that servant boy Gitano… I should have let him die…"

He was about to say 'Cross', but realized his mother would not understand. "That's a rather awful thing to say, Mother," he stated. "I'm sure he's thankful to be alive."

"Not with the life you all must lead," she cried. She sat up in her bed and began to fall forward. Neah stood up from the chair and caught her. "I need to tell you something, Neah. I want you to understand me, understand why I did all of this…"

As her voice faltered, Neah prompted her. He didn't want her to stop speaking. "What is it, Mother?" he asked.

"It's about something I did a long time ago…"

"Is this about Cornelia?" he inquired.

His mother's eyes widened, and she stopped crying. For a moment, Neah thought that he had said the wrong thing. "You know about Cornelia?" she questioned.

"I accidentally saw her at Uncle Cyrus' house," he admitted.

"Poor Cyrus," she muttered. "To put up with her in his house. I hope he fled."

Neah now thought about the last time he had seen his uncle. It must have been over a year ago when Uncle Cyrus had come for dinner with him and his mother. If Cornelia- if Road- was staying in his house while the Earl used it to schmooze with the elite, then he must have made a run for it. This would certainly explain why he hadn't answered Uncle Tykki's letter. "I bet he did," Neah murmured. "But, Mother, you did help Cornelia and the Earl. I just don't know why. Every other human being is terrified of the very mention of the Millennium Earl, but you didn't run away. What made you _want_ to help him?"

Mother looked down at the sheets on her bed. "She was only a child," she breathed. "Even though everyone said that Cornelia was a monster, I always saw her as a child. Before she became part of the Clan she was so sweet. I used to see her running after her mother to help pin the laundry. I couldn't bear the thought that her own parents would lock her up for the rest of her life… That, however, was before I knew what she became…"

Neah sat down on the edge of her bed and propped his mother up on her pillows. "Road is a little monster," he agreed with a coy grin.

His mother chuckled a bit at that remark. "Yes," she said. "I didn't know that Cornelia- Road- would hate me for saving her. Even when it was tough dealing with her after Adam saved her, I would always think of the little girl that I once knew…"

She looked towards her shuttered window. Neah knew that outside those closed shutters were the fields of dead golden wheat and a tree called Cornelia. He felt that he now understood. Now his mother's beautiful big heart was eating her inside-out. "I don't think you did anything wrong," he remarked. "You only did what your heart told you to do."

"But if I had listened to my head," she retorted, "I would have known like everyone else that something was wrong with Cornelia… that something was wrong with Adam… and perhaps Rory, Mana, and you would be safe. I always wanted a family, but I'm afraid that I traded that for a worthless dream. Please, Neah, don't end up like them. Don't end up like Adam. He lost his way somewhere along the road."

"He's my father, isn't he?" asked Neah.

His mother sighed and leaned forward to hold him tightly. "Yes," she responded. "Adam is your father. I'm so sorry I ruined your life, Neah. Please forgive me."

"I do, Mother," he said without any hesitation. "And I promise not to be like him."

oOo

It seemed like his mother's mental breakdown was over. Her body, however, continued to deteriorate. Sophia was forced to clean long into the night so that she could sit with his mother as she drifted between feverish daydreams and moments of extreme clarity. She would come and fetch him whenever his mother awoke so that he could be by her side. They would talk about many things during these times, mostly trivial things that would make her laugh.

Neah felt that this was the closest he could remember being to his mother. For once, it wasn't about him trying to be better than Rory or her comparing him to his sweet twin. They weren't perfect, but they were trying to break out of the past. Their interactions were very simple with him either sitting in the chair by his mother's bedside or sitting on the edge of her bed. He felt that he could be himself, that he wasn't required to be dignified like he was in the eyes of his family or cold like how he acted towards Cross, Sophia, and the Bookmen. It was all very relaxing, but he knew that it was coming to a quick end.

Whenever his mother slept Neah would work on his project. It was his own monument to her life, to his brother's life, to his life. Neah had written his mother many short pieces in his younger years, but this new composition would be special. This would be her lullaby. All the feelings that he had had for her in the past- frustration, sadness, abandonment, love- were poured into the notes that decorated the one sheet of music. It would be his well-wishes for her and his final goodbye.

It would also be his triumph, for Neah now knew what he wanted to do. Through this lullaby he would forge his own path. He would use this piece as a weapon against the Clan of Noah, a family who had only ever used his mother, his brothers, and himself as stepping stones to achieve their twisted goal. The Earl would never know until it was too late what this simple composition would do to them…

His _family_, fortunately, left him alone during this time. Uncle Adam had said to them that he would need time to mourn for his mother now, so that they could all move on together after her passing. He didn't know that his dear nephew- his son- was done mourning long before that. The lonely days filled with ash-piles and decimated cities had taken all his tears. Neah would miss his mother, but she would always be with him. He was determined to carry on her will.

On a sunny day in mid-August he finished the lullaby. Neah looked over the sheet and committed it to memory. It was truly his finest composition, a piece that didn't follow the rules but still was beautiful. Satisfied with his work, Neah took up a match and burned the music. He was careful to collect all the ashes in an ashtray. Once it was done burning, he picked up a golden ball that lay on the table and poured the ashes inside. This was what had taken him so long, the damned little golden ball. However, it was integral to his plan, so it was worth the time and effort he spent stealing it from the body of a dead exorcist during one of his post-battle sweeps. Now all he needed was a magician…

Neah pocketed the ball and locked the door to his room. When he returned to the manor he poked his head inside his mother's chambers. The curtains were now open, allowing the room to bask in the bright afternoon sunshine. His mother lay sleeping peacefully on her bed, a slight smile gracing her thin face. Sophia sat in the chair next to the bed reading a novel. There were dark bags under her eyes that stood out due to the way she had her head buried in her book. She set it down once she heard him walk into the room.

"She has been asleep for about two hours, Lord Neah," she reported.

"I'll sit with her now, Sophia," he replied.

"Would you like me to bring anything up here for you, my lord?" Sophia inquired.

"No," he said.

"Alright, I'll be in the kitchen," she responded. Sophia stood up and began to walk out of the room, but Neah grabbed one of her arms.

"Forget polishing the silver or the glassware or whatever it is that you're doing down there," he ordered. His eyes turned soft. "Go and rest for now, Sophia."

She seemed rather shocked, but Sophia left the room, carrying the novel. Neah listened as she retreated down to the first floor and shut the door to her room.

His mother didn't awake until another half hour had passed. "Neah," she murmured. She reached out a hand and began to pat his head. Her hand felt much warmer than it should. "This is a surprise. I was sure that Sophia was in here before."

"I sent her away for now," he stated. Neah found a bowl filled with cold water on the side table and a washcloth beside it. He rinsed the cloth and then pressed it to his mother's forehead. "I wanted to share something with you."

"What is it?" she asked. Her eyelids were still drooping heavily with sleep.

Neah sat on the edge of her bed. "I wrote you a song, Mother," he said.

She smiled up at his face. "You wrote a song for me?" she inquired. "I'd love to hear it then."

"I thought you would," responded Neah. He wrapped his mother up in a blanket and carried her down the stairs to the sitting room. Neah place her into her favorite armchair, the one she would always sit in when she listened to him play. Stretching his fingers out over the keys, Neah began to play. His mother closed her eyes and a content smile appeared upon her face. He then began to softly sing.

"_And then the boy fell fast asleep the gasping flames within the ashes_

_One by one rise up and expand into that beloved face_

_Suspended from the earth, thousands of dreams_

_On the night when those silver eyes trembled_

_You were born shining brightly_

_Hundreds of millions of months and years _

_no matter how many prayers are returned to the earth_

_I shall continue to pray…_"

Silent tears fell from his mother's eyes when he finished playing. She looked at him with stars in her eyes. "That was beautiful," she stated. "Will you play it for me again?"

He complied and began to play the song. This time his mother sang along, her voice sounding like leaves rustling in the wind. She began to cough at the end, causing him to stop. As he carried her back up to her room, his mother continued to hum her lullaby.

oOo

His mother lingered for four days after that before she passed away. He was the only family member there at the time, and he hummed her lullaby as she shut her eyes for the last time, her hand held loosely in his. She looked very peaceful lying there in her bed. Neah let go of her hand and then asked Sophia to send a telegraph to his other family members.

The house was flooded with old friends for the next few days. Most of his time was consumed by Lady Elizabeth who he practically had to force into her carriage when the wake was over. Every centimeter of open table-top now held vases of flowers and other various gifts from mourners. Sophia ran around the house trying her best to care for all the plants, even though he didn't really want all these flowers. He didn't have the heart to tell her that, so he continued to let her care for the damned plants. His uncle Tykki was even kind enough to give him a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches, saying it would help with the overbearing scent of hundreds of flowers. Everything seemed to pass in a blur, though he distinctly remembered that his family never cried during the course of the week. They had tried their best to look somber, but Neah could recognize the look of relief on their faces. It only served to make him more angry at them than before.

The funeral was a small affair with only the next of kin having been invited. Neah was slightly disappointed that Uncle Cyrus did not make an appearance. He really hoped that his mother's eccentric cousin was well and far away from his insane family. Road grimaced as the minister (his family was angry that Uncle Tykki had thought to invite a minister, but his uncle said it was for formality's sake) read a couple passages of scripture from the Bible as the casket was lowered into the ground.

Afterwards they had brunch together at the Camelot's Manor. They made idle chatter, but no one mentioned his mother. It was almost as if they had completely forgotten her. He stole a glance at his uncle at the head of the table. Uncle Adam had been rather quiet and reserved the entire day. This was uncharacteristic for the leader of the Clan who normally reigned over family occasions. There was nothing, however, hinting at sadness, and this slightly disappointed Neah. Perhaps it had been foolish, but he had hoped that his uncle- his father- might feel some pang of remorse at the loss of his mother. His family might not have cared, but Uncle Adam had a different sort of connection to his mother, a special one.

Neah completely resolved to go forward with his plan.

As soon as his family had finished talking everyone rose to leave. Road stopped him before he headed out the door. "Sheril wanted me to tell you that you are welcome to join us for dinner," she said. "I think he wants to talk to you about when we will finally set the date. I'm sure he wants me out of the house, and I am just as eager to leave. We can also talk about _that_."

Road pointed a glare out the door. Neah followed her gaze. Sophia didn't seem to notice the two of them staring at her as she sat nonchalantly in the cart outside the gate of Camelot Manor. Neah licked his lips before speaking. "I'm actually a bit exhausted from everything today," he replied. "Perhaps I can join you for lunch tomorrow?"

She smiled at him. Neah noted that her lipstick only served to make her oddly sharp teeth stand out more. "That would be delightful," she stated. Road pecked him on the cheek. "Until tomorrow, then."

As soon as she closed the door behind him, Neah took out his handkerchief to wipe the lipstick off his cheek. He heard someone chuckle on the porch. Uncle Adam sat on a chair smoking a cigarette that Uncle Tykki had given him. "She's very affection, that Road," he snickered.

"Yes," Neah agreed. He shuffled his feet in slight discomfort. All he wanted to do was leave the Camelot's as soon as possible.

Thankfully, his uncle seemed to interpret this as a sign of melancholy. His eyes softened. "You've been very strong this past week," he said. "I must say that I am proud of you. If you feel that you need to talk to someone, though, then just be aware that you can come talk to me at any time. The door to my home is always opened to you. You are very important to me, Neah."

"Thanks," he responded. Neah let a corner of his mouth turn up so that Uncle Adam hopefully wouldn't be able to process the thoughts running through his mind. It made him want to rethink his plan, to find another way. He knew, though, that there was only one way for him to go now. Neah had a promise to keep. His Inner Noah began screaming inside his head, shouting at him to leave right now. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Perhaps you'd like to join me in my house in Edo," pondered Uncle Adam. "I'm planning on spending the winter there. Unfortunately the cherry will not be in season, but if you'd like we could stay there until they bloom in April."

There it was, the last bit of information he needed for his plan. The Earl was taking up a permanent residence in Edo, and he had flung the doors wide open for him… As long as no one else was invited, it would be much easier. "Maybe," he responded nonchalantly.

"I won't keep you," stated Uncle Adam, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I'm sure that you have other things that you wish to do. Hopefully after a good night's rest you'll be ready to talk about more war plans with me. Good afternoon, Neah."

"Goodbye, dear uncle," he replied.

Neah didn't turn around to face him as Sophia snapped the reigns. He didn't want to admit to himself or to his uncle that he was crying.

oOo

When he returned home, he waited for the day to pass. Neah passed the time playing the piano in the sitting room, although he wasn't sounding his best. His hands kept trembling as he went over the plan again and again in his mind. If anything were to go wrong, the consequences would be immediate and very severe. There were a few things he would have to take care of first.

Sophia served a dinner of cold soup and a garden salad, which Neah ate sparingly. He couldn't quite work up an appetite, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the heat or if his nerves were to blame. Neah dismissed her for the evening after she cleared the dishes. As soon as he heard her bedroom door shut, Neah went to his room. His bedroom was somewhat messy due to the lack of care over the past week. Dirty clothes sat in a basket by the door waiting to be picked up. Neah had to open the curtains in order to be able to see in the dark room. He found the oak desk on the far side of the wall. This was where he would work on war plans whenever he wasn't at Uncle Adam's room in the Ark. After telling him his story, the man had trusted him with several important documents, documents that he didn't want anyone else to see. He reached into the middle drawer and extracted the copies he had made along with the golden ball containing the ashes of his sheet music. Rolling the plans up, he placed them into a metal tube he had purchased several weeks back when fetching medicine for his mother. This tube along with a basket of food and a violin went into the back of the cart. He pocketed the golden ball. There was only one more thing to pack.

As he expected, Sophia was not asleep when he returned to the house. It seemed as if she had waited for him to leave the main area of the house before reemerging to do her job. Neah put on a pair of black gloves before reaching into the medicine cabinet to extract a bottle of ether. He poured some onto a clean handkerchief before silently creeping out into the foyer. Sophia stood there with her back to him as she mopped. She didn't notice as Neah snuck up behind her and then reached around, covering her nose and mouth with the damp handkerchief. For a moment she stiffened up and tried to turn around, but then Sophia passed out. He caught her before she hit the ground.

After he was certain she wouldn't wake up, he took off her pendant and threw it on the ground next to the abandoned mop. For some reason he put the emerald ring into her apron pocket. Neah carried her carefully out to the cart and laid her in the back.

He led the horse and cart down the back road behind the house. It was a road that he had hardly used, but he'd had it cleared before the wake so that mourners could use it. Neah reached the edge of the property and tied the reigns to a fence post. Next came the tricky part.

Luckily, no one was wandering about when he opened a gateway to the Ark. He quickly walked through the streets of the silent white city before opening another gateway. This one led to a town not five miles from his house. Neah had heard rumors all week of an anarchist rally that would take place in this town tonight. He also knew that the constables had every intention of stopping it.

Sure enough, there were buildings on fire by the time he set foot in the town. He raised the collar on his coat and pulled his hat down. Members of the royal guards and several constables were running about, some blowing whistles. The anarchists had broken up and now ran for their lives to escape flying bullets and the law. Neah snuck around a building to look at the rally point. Several people lay on the ground dead or already dying. He found a burly looking man who was still warm but definitely no longer living and picked him up. Somehow, open yet another gateway and drag him through back to his house. He laid the body down in the kitchen.

Neah laid the man down and switched shoes with the dead anarchist. He opened one more gate and returned to the cart. Walking through the fields past Cornelia and all the dead golden wheat, Neah was careful not to trip. He made it into the house and switched shoes once again. It was time for the finale.

He procured the drum of kerosene that they kept in the kitchen cupboard next to the stove. Neah made a trail from the hallway into the kitchen and then dumped the empty can next to the man. There was a revolver, bullets, and gunpowder in the man's pocket. Taking the gunpowder, Neah poured it out into a pile on the floor in the hallway where the kerosene trail ended. He took a match from the matches that Uncle Tykki gave him earlier in the week and pressed it between the anarchists fingers. Finally, Neah lit the match and dropped it and on the kerosene.

The fire spread quickly, but he was able to open one last gate and return to the cart before it became an inferno. He heard windows shattering behind him and then a loud explosion. Flames licked the outside of the manor through the new holes caused by the gunpowder. Neah, however, had no time to admire his work. He untied the reigns of the horse and snapped them, riding off into the evening.

**Sorry that this chapter took so long to write. It's not easy getting in the mind frame, plus I made some minor changes to the original plan of the story. Anyhow, I hadn't originally planned to have Neah make up entirely with his mother. However, I felt that it was fitting given how things are going in the manga and sort of a reflection on my own life. I won't trouble you guys with that, though. **

**I also realize I'm being a bit of a troll. Haha, never thought I would seriously troll. Unfortunately, I'm saving all the juicy stuff on Uncle Adam for later. Don't worry, you'll all find out eventually. Please review!**


	15. Chapter 15: Ladybird, Ladybird

**Things are starting to get more and more complicated! I'm so excited! I must say, that this story developed farther than my imagination could have even imagined at the beginning of the writing process. Anyhow, thanks to ilikedan and WillowC1 for reviewing the story. Thanks also go to ThorongilAnime for reviewing the story and putting it on their alert list.**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Chapter Fifteen: Ladybird, Ladybird**

"_Ladybird, ladybird fly away home._

_Your house is on fire and your children are gone._"

Roud Folk Song Index, 1744

Mana sighed as he walked through the busy streets of Paris. It had been a while since he had last travelled to the grand old city of love, but it still had the same feel: romantic, beautiful, dirty, overpopulated, and filled to the brim with loose purse strings. There was always money to be made in the French capital with all the tourists and businessmen out for a stroll with their families. It would be a nice change from the routine life of a touring circus. He would miss his compatriots, but at the same time he was thrilled to return to his life of wandering.

People would turn to look at him as Mana walked down the street. Any other man with a large head would think they were looking at him, but he knew better. He really wasn't a remarkable looking boy. Sure, he had been told that he was handsome enough, but he always dressed down and embraced the soot and dust that clung onto his clothes and body. Mana was really afraid that if he cleaned up too well that people might recognize his aristocratic features. That wouldn't do at all. He'd let his brother be the handsome one. It was his battered suitcase that caught people's attention. The large leather case was much too thick to be your average piece of luggage, and the outside was littered with stamps from his various adventures. It wasn't everyday that you met someone who'd been to Moscow or Sarajevo. Even though he looked like a ragamuffin, girls would come right up to him to talk just because of his suitcase. Mana didn't mind that one bit.

There was something off, however, when he arrived in the inner city. People rushed about in a nervous frenzy, the kind that usually accompanied the coming of winter or some other disaster. It was nothing like the summer lull of the countryside. Mana could see that they had good reason, though. Every newsstand held headlines telling stories of disappearing towns and mass murders, sinking ships and anarchy. There was talk of corruption in the United States, war in Tibet, earthquakes, rebellions in Greece, and the continuation of the war on the Crimean Peninsula. It was entirely too much bloodshed for it to be just a coincidence. He knew this all too well and it appeared as if others were catching on. Nobody wanted to be caught out in the storm.

If only they knew the true extent of it all. Mana was perfectly capable of telling them the truth. But who would actually believe that a group of superhumans was orchestrating all of this suffering in order to take over the world. He couldn't think of anyone. The best thing he could do was to stay silent and hidden so that he wouldn't cause more misery in his wake. After all, if he were to be pursued by his family he wouldn't have time to look for Rory. In that case, though, it would probably be best if Rory remained missing for the rest of his life. It was a terrible thought, but it would be unfair for his little brother to come back to a world in which even Mana didn't want to live. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but he couldn't think of anyone he knew that chose the right option over the easy solution.

Mana found a corner in a rather crowded marketplace to set up his first performance. Setting his suitcase down with a thus, he unlocked it and fished out three juggling pins. He'd treat his time here just like every other visit, even if everyone else saw the difference.

oOo

It was the second day of his visit to Paris that the Black Order arrived in a black coach. The two black horses whinied as they came to a stop on the edge of the square, eyes rolling behind their blinders. It was a haunting sight, the kind that Mana normally saw in funeral processions. Of course this made him nervous, for he remembered Sanjiv's tale about what happened to Cross and his performance troupe when the Order came to Sicily. He also knew they probably wouldn't be as kind to him considering he was, genetically, a member of the Clan of Noah. Sure, the Black Order didn't know that there were humans that fought for the Earl... yet. Mana knew it was only a matter of time before his family would finally reveal their true colors. He didn't want any part of it.

A stern looking man in a gold-trimmed coat limped up to a row house next to his current performance. The coat only served to make him look like a vulture, not helped by his beady black eyes, thin gray hair, and a large crooked nose. His one leg was made of wood, probably a battle wound. He knocked on the door and after speaking to a young blonde man he obtained entry. Mana tried his best not to become distracted by this proximity, focusing on the flaming batons he was juggling. The crowd didn't seem to notice his anxiety and applauded very loudly as he caught the batons and gave a sweeping bow. He held out the top hat that he used to collect tips, talking merrily with his audience.

An old woman stuck a silver coin into the hat. "That was lovely, just lovely," she chortled in French. "I'm amazed you were able to keep that up in this heat. Get yourself something nice and cold to drink."

"Thank you, madam," he replied. He began to pack his things away for the day once the crowd dispersed. It was almost two o'clock. The lunchtime rush was over, so he could afford to rest for a couple hours. It really was too hot to be performing at the moment. Mana decided to find a shaded lawn to stretch. He'd give tumbling a try when the factories let out.

Before he could leave the square, though, the door to the row house nest door burst open. The man in the gold-trimmed coat from earlier exited the house leading a small brown-haired boy by the hand. A brown-haired woman, who Mana assumed was the boy's mother, stood in the doorway crying and shrieking at the man. "Froi! Give me back my baby!"  
"Mama!" called out the little boy over his shoulder. The man in the gold-trimmed coat tugged the child closer, forcing him to turn forward again.

She was about to run out the door after him when the blonde man came up and grabbed her from behind. He hugged the woman and began to caress the side of her face, speaking soothing words into her ear. "He must go, Marielle," he said. His eyes were sad as they looked down into hers. "It is God's plan for our son."

The woman turned and began to sob into her husband's chest, the will to fight leaving her completely. Her son seemed to notice this and called out to his mother again. "Mama!" he cried. She did not look up at the child, shaking as he continued to call out to her. The man in the gold-trimmed coat opened the door to a coach on the other end of the square and placed the child inside. He climbed in as well and slammed the door. The coach sped off under the afternoon sun.

Mana's stomach churned as he watched the coach drive away. The child's parents walked slowly back into their house, the husband closing the door firmly behind them. People walked by as if nothing had happened. It made him sick that the mother had given up and that no one else tried to stop the man from the Black Order. Didn't anyone else see how the coach looked like a hearse?

It was a death sentence to become involved with the Order. They were fighting a battle that could only be lost, for they didn't know the extent of the evil that they were up against. The least anyone could do would be to save a child from this losing battle. He wasn't any better, though. After all, he hadn't said anything when the child walked past him. Mana Walker was weak, someone who couldn't even save his own little brother or defend him from the wrath of his twin. A certain auburn-haired magician might have said something, for Cross had a strong will. His friend would have shot lightning from the sky or broke the spokes on the wheels before even thinking of giving up on that child. He, however, was not Cross. Mana looked away from the street where the coach continued to carry the boy away, trying to forget that anything had even happened.

oOo

On his sixth day in the city it began to rain. Although it would make it practically impossible for him to tumble, it was a nice change of pace. It meant he could take the day off without feeling guilty. Mana couldn't remember the last time that he truly had a day to himself. He thought about going to a pub, but then changed his mind. In the end, he settled on a nice walk around the city. The ever-present construction crews were gone, eliminating a lot of the city's usual noise. He had to commend them, though, for the city was really becoming more beautiful every year. The streets were now wide and clean, lined with stone buildings of matching height. It was a far cry from the winding streets of half-wooden houses that Mana remembered from his first visit.

The rain felt nice after the last six stifling hot days. Mana almost felt like finding a fountain to splash around in, but he avoided it because it could only result in his eventual arrest and committal to an asylum. He didn't feel like getting locked up. It would probably take Cross half a year before his auburn-haired friend found him.

Speaking of the color red, Mana saw a rather wet but familiar red-head walking down the street in front of him. He couldn't believe his luck, for it appeared that Sanjiv had yet to notice him. Mana thought about walking away, but then a brilliant thought struck his mind. It was his turn to play 'Bookman'.

After all, he had nothing better to do than to get sweet revenge for his last run in with the young Bookman by stalking him for a day. Mana rolled up his wet sleeves and continued following Sanjiv at a distance.

Sanjiv seemed to have some sort of agenda, for he walked at a brisk pace down side-streets and boulevards. Thankfully, he was quick on his feet and had no trouble following the young Bookman's sudden changes in direction. He also appeared to be distracted, he didn't turn around once to face Mana the stalker. In a particularly dark alley Sanjiv suddenly stopped. Mana could see why, for a tall figure blocked his path. He ducked back around the corner as Uncle Tykki walked up the the young Bookman.

"You seem to be in a hurry," drawled his uncle.

"I'm running an errand," responded Sanjiv cooly. Mana heard the young Bookman take a couple steps, most likely an attempt to step around his uncle.

"Is Neah at your place?" asked Uncle Tykki. "Road won't stop nagging me about him."

This was becoming interesting, although Mana didn't want to admit it. "No," stated Sanjiv. "I haven't even heard from him since before the fire. I suppose he survived the explosion if you're asking about his whereabouts."

"Yes, he sent the Earl a telegraph from London," replied Uncle Tykki. "He said something about lying low for a while so that the anarchists might make a mistake. It's odd, for I would have thought that he'd come stay with one of us."

"He's going on fifteen years of age," said Sanjiv. "Since when has a fifteen year-old ever done what you expected them to do?"

"Fair enough," replied Uncle Tykki. Mana heard his uncle walk away. "Send one of us a telegraph if he so much as breathes in your presence. I really don't have time to search for children."

"Neither do I," muttered Sanjiv.

Mana heard a door open and close. He took his chances and peeked around the corner. Uncle Tykki had disappeared, either through an Ark door or one of Road's doors. Sanjiv walked steadily down the alley as if nothing had happened. Mana picked up his pace to reestablish the comfortable distance between them.

Finally they reached a factory along the Seine River close to the outskirts of the city. Sanjiv stopped and sat on a little hill fifty meters from the place, just close enough to see the people coming out from the day shift. From what Mana could tell, his attention was focused on the warehouse next to the factory where men were unloading large crates from a wagon.

After fifteen minutes of watching the same movements, he became very bored. He didn't know what was in the crates and he doubted that he would care. It was obviously another one of his Bookman training exercises just like observing him or Cross but a lot less interesting. Mana decided it was time to pounce. Slowly he army-crawled up the hill, closing the gap until he was just five meters away from Sanjiv. That was when the young Bookman whipped out a knife and chucked it at him.

Mana rolled to the side, narrowly escaping the deadly item. "Hey!" he hissed at the young Bookman.

"So it was you," stated Sanjiv, not even turning to face him. Apparently he had failed once again. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Following you," he admitted in defeat. "I saw you back on Champs-Élysées. I forgot that you were in Paris."

"For the meantime, yes," responded Sanjiv. "We'll probably move again in the next year. The old geezer wants to go to Rome to observe the Noah's actions against the Black Order."

"Oh," remarked Mana. "So... what are you looking at here?" He finished crawling up the hill and sat next to Sanjiv.

"The man who owns this factory is an informant of the Millennium Earl," said the young Bookman. "He harbors akuma and akuma skeletons in his warehouse."

"I thought the Earl kept all of them in his laboratory," mumbled Mana. He absolutely abhorred talking about his uncle's extracurricular activities.

"He has to use a transport spell to make them appear when needed," explained Sanjiv. "It would take up too much energy if he had to transport them from his lab on the Ark every single time. Plus, akuma cannot just float around all day. The Black Order would find them all easily that way. Your family goes through a lot of effort to keep this war secret."

"Right," replied Mana. "And this is interesting because..."

"It's not," agreed Sanjiv. "Bookman is still miffed about me researching without his permission, so now I have to do all the little jobs and report back to him. He says it will help with communication. I think that it's just a bunch of shit."

They sat there in silence as they watched the men walked away from the warehouse. The cart that had delivered the crates drove away. Mana sighed and blew a loose strand of wet hair out of his face. This was turning out to be a boring, soggy day. He felt like a cooped-up, cranky child waiting to be let out into the yard. Sanjiv walked down the hill to pick up his knife. A metal pendant tied to a piece of string fell out of his pocket when he sat back down. Mana picked it up and looked at the carved front: a picture of the Virgin Mary.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I picked it up on one of my trips," responded Sanjiv. He snatched the pendant out of his hands, putting it back in his pockets. "It belonged to an acquaintance of mine."

"Who?" inquired Mana.

Sanjiv didn't reply for his eyes fixed on something behind him. Mana turned to look at what was so damn interesting that the young Bookman couldn't answer a simple question. He quickly saw the reason. The warehouse next to the factory began to glow a peculiar shade of green. Workers entering the factory from the night shift also stopped to stare at this spectacle. Suddenly, the warehouse exploded, throwing everyone outside off of their feet. Out of the corner of his eye Mana could see Sanjiv pull out a leather book from his bag. He quickly took down some notes amidst the screaming and the pounding rain. A fat man wearing a black suit emerged from the factory and began shouting orders at the workers unaffected by the blast. He looked panicked as he surveyed the damage, leading Mana to conclude that this was the owner of the factory.

Smaller explosions continued to occur after that as the impact hit the akuma in the warehouse. Mana could not see them through the smoke until a small Level Two akuma burst out above the carnage. No one else besides Sanjiv seemed to notice it fleeing as its streamed a trail of smoke. It stopped suddenly as if an invisible rope had wrapped itself around its body. Strung up like a marionette it flew back into the smoke, but another explosion never came.

Terrified that other akuma may have survived the explosions and the ensuing fire, Mana took off back towards the city. Only when he was halfway back to the inn where he was staying did he hear someone running after him. "Hey!" shouted Sanjiv. "Wait up! I have something to tell you!"

Mana turned to face him. "What?" he snapped. He was no longer in the mood to talk to anyone remotely involved with the Earl or any aspect of the war.

Sanjiv looked at him pensively. "I see what Neah meant," he muttered under his breath. "You really do have a bad temperament."

"Is that all?" Mana inquired incredulously. All he wanted to do right now was to hide away in his room until the sun returned tomorrow.

"No. We received a telegraph the other day from Cross," the young Bookman said. "He didn't know when he'd next be able to talk, but he wanted us to let you know that he'll be in Liverpool during the Winter Solstice."

Mana felt his mouth hang open. "He wants to meet in England?" he questioned. "But that's where _they_ live."

Sanjiv replied, "He can't meet at any other time, though, so it's either in Liverpool or you'll have to wait a year. Plus, he said it was important."

"Important my ass," spat Mana. "It's still suicide going to England, especially when both of us are there."

"He thought you'd say that," said Sanjiv. "That's why I am going with you."

Mana glared at the redhead. "That will only make me more noticeable!"

"But you will go if you're not alone, correct?" asked the young Bookman, quirking one of his damn eyebrows.

Mana cursed furiously under his breath. "Alright," he seethed. "I will go with you to Liverpool."

Sanjiv grinned briefly at him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good," he stated. "We'll leave from the town of Dunkirk on the seventh of December. That will give us plenty of time to reach Liverpool by the twenty-first."

"I hate you," grumbled Mana. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away.

"That's perfectly fine," responded Sanjiv.

When Mana turned around the young Bookman had disappeared. He returned to the inn to pack up. It was time to leave Paris. There was no chance in hell that he was sticking around after this.

oOo

Mana had forgotten how dreary the weather could be in Britain. Even though it was nearing the New Year, there was hardly any snow on the ground. He was thankful that it wasn't bitterly cold, but the town could at least look like a cozy winter wonderland if he had to be there. All he had to look at were drunk Irishmen, grey skies, and dirty-looking slush.

Sanjiv walked through this muck, his nonexistent mood unchanged. Every now and then he would pull out a piece of paper, read it, and then continue along his way. Either he was really bad with directions, or he was taking the long way not specified on the paper. Mana guessed it was the second. This town was hardly large enough to be called a city, so it would be much too easy to be followed. He couldn't fathom why Cross wanted to meet all the way out here instead of in a bigger city like London or Belfast where it would be easier to hide. It was the total opposite of Berlin.

When the rounded a corner a few minutes later, Sanjiv stopped him and handed him the piece of paper. "You follow the directions straight to the meeting point," he said. "Don't try to skive off. I'm going to take a different path in case anyone connected to the Millennium Earl is in town, but I should be there in a half hour."

He snatched up the directions from the young Bookman. "I know. I know," he muttered darkly. "I'm not Little Red Ridinghood. I won't wander off of the path."

Sanjiv walked off in another direction. "You should go back to being whimsical," he stated. "This attitude just doesn't seem right, especially from you."

Mana scowled at the back of his head and then went back to reading directions. He still had a while to go, for their meeting point was outside the town. It would take another ten minutes to reach there by foot if he didn't get lost. Mana thought about what Sanjiv had said as he turned another corner. He really was giving off a bad attitude. While he absolutely did not want to be in Liverpool, it wasn't fair to Sanjiv or Cross that he should be acting like a grumpy child. Breathing in the cold, wet winter air, Mana began to reign in his emotions.

It didn't do any good in the end. His emotions grew even wilder as he reached the outskirts of town. He grew suspicious as he finally reached his destination. The building looked like it was an old church or perhaps a monastery. It was very quaint with its dirty stone facade and faded stained-glass windows. There was smoke rising out of a pipe-chimney and light streaming out of the windows leaving colourful patterns of saints on the slushy ground, so obviously the building wasn't completely abandoned. He walked down the path to the church, passing giant oaks with low-hanging branches draped in sharp, glimmering icicles. Something about the place gave him the creeps. It could have been that the icicles made the trees look like beasts baring their fangs at him or that a small, unkempt cemetery surrounded the church. Carefully he stepped over patches of ice to reach the door.

When he knocked, a small brown-haired middle-aged woman leaning on a cane answered. There was a loud din in the background sounding a lot like pots and pans hitting against each other. She looked him and then called over her shoulder. "Cross! I believe your friend is here."

"Thank you," he heard his friend call back.

The noise in the background stopped. "I want to meet Mr. Cross' friend!" cried out a child's voice. "Can I, Mother? Can I?"

"Let him say hello first, Bubba," chided the woman. "Come in, dear."

Mana stepped into the church and felt the warmth of a fire rush over him. While it wasn't extremely cold outside, it didn't mean that it felt pleasant either. It was nice to come in from the cold, grey winter. He saw a pair of big brown eyes peek out at him from the kitchen. The little boy still held a wooden spoon which he had been using to drum on several pots and pans littering the kitchen floor. Cross stood up from a sofa near the fireplace and walked over to greet him. His friend was looking much cleaner than usual. He wore a white button-down shirt and tie, well-pressed black slacks, and what looked like a new pair of boots. Gone were the cheap, ruffled costume shirts that Mana had grown accustomed to seeing. The woman took his coat as Cross introduced him.

"Mother," stated Cross, "this is Mana. He was in the circus with me-"

"You have a mother?" interrupted Mana. This was the first time he had heard anything of the sort. Last thing he knew _his_ mother had taken little orphan Cross in out of what he supposed was the kindness of her heart, condemning him to live in the Clan's strange shadowy realm. The woman had even given Cross his first name. This woman didn't look anything like his tall, auburn-haired friend.

"No," responded Cross looking flustered. "It's just that... well, everyone calls her Mother."

"You may do the same, Mana," quipped Mother.

"Oh," replied Mana. "Okay."

Cross ran a hand through his hair. Although it was tied back in a ponytail, a few strands still hung in his face. His friend had never been able to keep those strands out of his face, and Mana doubted that would ever change. "That's Bubba over there in the kitchen," continued Cross.

"Hi," chimed in the boy, waving politely at him from the doorway.

Mother walked over to Bubba and herded him further into the kitchen. "I'm going to start making dinner," she said. "Do you boys want anything to drink?"

Mana was about to say yes, but Cross held up a hand to silence him. "Perhaps at dinner, but we're fine for now," he responded.

Mother shut the kitchen door, leaving them alone in the front room. Mana pouted, for he would really have liked to have a drink to calm his nerves. He had never been in a church before, let alone a church in his home country- a place to which he had sworn to never return. The banging noise began again, signaling that Bubba had returned to composing his little symphony. Cross walked back over to the sofa, gesturing for him to take a seat. Mana sat down in an armchair next to the sofa.

"Why are we meeting in a church?" he asked quietly. He wanted some answers.

"It's not used as a church anymore," replied Cross. "Mother owed me a favor, so I decided to collect on it. I'm in a bit of a tight spot right now, and I can't move as freely."

"A tight spot?" questioned Mana. "What happened? I heard from Sanjiv about what had happened in Sicily. Where did you go after that?"

Cross' left eye twitched. "It's because of that stupid Khann," he muttered.

"Who?"

"Indivar Khanna," repeated Cross. "He's an exorcist with the Black Order. He saw Sanjiv in Sicily and recognized him as a member of the Bookman Clan. Unfortunately, I was talking to him at the time, so the bastard blackmailed me into joining the Order after the attack."

"You joined the Black Order?" inquired Mana. He stood up and backed away from his friend. Mana knew that Cross had never cared to be involved in the secret war, so the fact that he'd joined the opposing side...

He was terrified. There was a chance that someone from the Black Order could be listening to their conversation right now. Mana felt like he didn't even know Cross anymore. So, he did the only logical thing: he ran for the door.

It appeared that Cross had been prepared for this for he jumped over the back of the sofa and tackled him to the ground. The banging noise stopped. "Are you boys alright out there?" asked Mother.

"Yes," said Cross.

Mana struggled as he tried to break away from Cross' grasp. "Let me go!" he hissed.

"No," snapped Cross. "You'll just run away if I do."

"Are you trying to capture me?" questioned Mana. He considered biting Cross' arm but thought that it might backfire. Cross could easily elbow him in the stomach, rendering him unconscious.

"Why the hell would I do that?" asked Cross.

Mana tried pulling Cross' arm in a funny position, hoping his friend would let go. It didn't work, though. Cross was much stronger than he looked. "Because you're with the Black Order," he replied.

"I don't want to be 'with' the Black Order," seethed Cross. "Didn't you listen to the part that I was forced to join? Plus, I'm not going to turn you in. I would have tracked you down on the mainland if I wanted to do that. It would be much easier than making a trek to Great Britain."

Mana stopped struggling and pushed Cross off of him. "Whatever," he grumbled. "Just tell me what you wanted to say so I can get out of here."

"Fine," responded Cross. His friend pulled him back over to the armchair and sat him down. "I suppose you haven't been following any newspapers while abroad."

"I've never followed the news," replied Mana. "What the hell would I need news for as a circus performer? I can't even read more than half of the newspapers I see on a daily basis."

"I thought not," stated Cross. He pulled out a newspaper clipping from his pant pocket. "I thought you might want to know that your mother passed away."

"Oh," said Mana. He didn't know what to think at that moment. Sure, he was angry at his mother for aligning herself with the Earl and the Clan of Noah. He had spent the last eight years trying to forget everything about her: he aristocratic nature, her sense of self-importance, her self-consciousness, her perfectionism, her reddish-brown hair, her silver eyes, her smile...

He'd never been able to be completely angry at his mother. It had frustrated him to no end the way his memory of his mother conflicted with his reality. She was his enemy, a woman who wouldn't care what the Clan did to him if they ever should catch him. His mother also was a woman so caught up in the past that she didn't notice the one child who had always stood beside her. Even if his brother was evil, he deserved better than that. But his mother had also loved him, Neah, and Rory so dearly. It was present on her face whenever no one of importance was watching. He couldn't forget it.

"Also," continued Cross, "it appears that your brother ran into a spot of trouble somewhere along the way. A known anarchist blew up the manor."

"What?" inquired Mana. Cross offered him the newspaper clipping which he took immediately. He scanned the tiny newsprint with his eyes. It talked of a rally in a town close to the manor and about how the suspect had evaded police. They said he snuck through the back door, attacked a maid, and then proceeded to set up some explosives in the main hall. The suspect then used the kerosene kept for the lamps to create an ignition trail. In the end, he committed suicide by blowing the building up with him. Law enforcement suspected it was because Walker Manor was so close, and since everyone knew that Neah would be alone in the household. If only the anarchist had known that a simple explosion couldn't kill his brother.

"They didn't interview my brother," stated Mana.

"Well obviously he's dead in their eyes," responded Cross. "Until he can come up with an excuse as to why he survived unscathed, he's no longer living."

"Right," said Mana. "Is Sophia..."

Cross was silent for a minute, his brown eyes staring intently into the fire. Mana could see the shadows of guilt plainly on his face. "They haven't found a body," replied Cross. "The men who investigated the incident found a mop and a broom in the hall, so they believe she was in the house during the explosion. Plus, she probably would have shown up somewhere if she was still alive."

Mana turned his eyes to the floor. Maybe his brother had done something to deserve this, but Sophia was only a kid. He clenched his fists by his sides. "I'll kill him if I ever see him again," he mumbled.

"No you won't," remarked Cross. "You're too much of a pansy to actually kill someone."

"I'm not a pansy!" spat Mana.

"You are too," retorted Cross. He stared directly into his eyes. "You would have run all the way to London and swam the English Channel if I hadn't stopped you."

He remained silent, knowing that Cross was right. A knock came from the front door, and his friend went to answer it. Sanjiv walked inside, brushing a few snowflakes off of his cloak.

"I didn't see any signs of anyone affiliated with the Earl in town," he the young Bookman said. "It seems that Bookman was able to buy us some time."

"That's good," stated Cross. He walked back over to the fireplace. "I need your opinion on something, Sanjiv."

Sanjiv hung his cloak on a rack by the door. "I'm not in the consultation business."

"But you are interested in anything dealing with the war, especially anything pertaining to a certain Noah," replied Cross. "I found the ignition for the explosion when I went to the Manor."

"You actually went back there!" exclaimed Mana. He thought that his friend would never think of returning to his home of servitude.

"I wanted to investigate," responded Cross, turning to face him. "Anyhow, I found this box of matches under a pile of debris. Have you seen them before?"

Cross pulled out a cloth holding the rather charred box. Sanjiv walked up to him to take a closer look. Mana craned his neck to look at them, too.

"Those are pretty expensive matches," he said.

"They're the kind that you buy in a tobacco shop," replied Cross. "However, I found out from talking to some of the anarchists _associates-_"

"You're going to get yourself deported from Great Britain doing that," interrupted Mana, bringing a hand to his head.

"Shut up for a moment," snapped Cross. "As I was saying, I found out that Mr. McFarland didn't smoke."

"In that case he should have bought matches elsewhere," responded Sanjiv. "He wouldn't have gone into a tobacco shop to buy matches if he wasn't there to buy tobacco."

"Take a look at the matchbox itself," declared Cross. "It has an advertisement for the James J Fox and Robert Lewis tobacco shop in London. Now, I can remember a certain Noah who had a strong affinity for that shop. He snuffed one of his cigarettes out on my arm one time. It hurt like hellfire."

Mana immediately knew who Cross was talking about. "Uncle Tykki put out one of his cigarettes on your arm?" he asked. "That's disgusting."

"That's not the point!" sighed Cross. He ran a hand through the los strands of his hair, but they flopped back into his face. "I'm trying to say that these matches belong to Tykki!"

It took only a second for him to register this statement. Sanjiv's face changed to an expression of mild interest. "Why would Uncle Tykki want to destroy my brother's house?" questioned Mana.

"I don't know," answered Cross. "I haven't figured that part out yet."

"It's true that those matches came from Tykki Mikk," stated Sanjiv. "I'm not convinced that he was the one to use them."

"Somehow I thought you'd have something more to say about this," said Cross. "What do you know?"

"If I'm not mistaken," began the young Bookman, "which I'm usually not, then Tykki Mikk made a gift of those matches to your brother along with a pack of cigarettes."

"So we're back to square one," groused Mana. "The anarchist McFarland picked the matches up inside the house to ignite a fire and cause the explosion."

"No," replied Sanjiv. "That's not the only possibility. There were two other people in the house: Sophia-"

"If Sophia set the house on fire, how the fuck did a dead anarchist end up on the floor?" inquired Cross bitterly.

"Sophia was scared of practically everything," agreed Mana. "There's no way she killed a man, dragged his corpse into the house, and then set the manor on fire."

"I wasn't done yet," groused Sanjiv. "Both of those facts eliminate Sophia from the suspect list. However, your brother was also home. He's the only one besides Sophia who would have known exactly where to find the matches."

"So you think my brother burnt down his own estate," said Mana.

"Yes," stated Sanjiv.

Mana really had to ask the obvious question. "Why?"

"I'd have to ask him," responded Sanjiv. "It goes completely beyond the scope of reasonable thought."

"He'd be capable of killing an anarchist," commented Cross. "He could also use the Ark to transport the body without being seen. The question is what is he planning to do now."

Sanjiv nodded. He appeared to be deep in thought. Mana's head hurt just trying to wrap his mind around the logistics. It was entirely possible that his brother had managed to blow up his own house and frame someone else. The time it must have taken, though, to figure out everything so as not to leave a trace... Apparently his brother had taken his studies more seriously after he had run away.

It still wasn't certain that it had indeed been Neah's doing. Until his brother reappeared he doubted that anyone would know. There was also that conversation his Uncle Tykki had had with Sanjiv back in Paris. It appeared that his family hadn't known about Neah's potential plan either. Neah would never have kept this a secret from the Clan. Unless something had changed...

Mother poked her head out of the kitchen door to look at the three boys. "Dinner is ready," she said.

"Thanks," replied Cross. He walked over to the kitchen, Sanjiv following a few steps behind. Mana stood to follow him and Sanjiv. He was glad, though, that he had been sitting, for the old woman pulled her cane out from behind her and whacked Cross over the head.

"Ow!" shouted Cross. "What the hell was that for?"

"You didn't tell me that you were having two friends over," responded Cross. She hit him over the head again. "At least warn me beforehand next time. Also, don't swear in front of Bubba."

"I'm sorry, ma'm," stated Sanjiv. He eyed the cane a bit warily. "I just happened to be in town when I ran into Mana. He told me that Cross was staying here, so I thought that I might as well-"

"You don't have to lie to me, boy," Mother interrupted. "Khanna already told me all about you."

Both Cross and Sanjiv paled considerably. It was impressive that the Mother had managed to get a reaction out of Sanjiv, although not as good as the one in Venice. Mana might have laughed if he were not afraid of being hit over the head just like Cross. "Is that son-of-a... person here?" snarled Cross.

"No, he isn't," replied Mother. She put her cane back down on the ground and leaned on it. "He wrote to me about him. You have some nerve bringing a Bookman here, Cross. Khanna never comes up to Liverpool unless it's absolutely necessary. He's pretty stingy with his travel money."

"I can imagine that," muttered Cross.

Mana sincerely hoped that he'd never meet this Khanna fellow.

"Anyhow, I'll be leaving soon," said Sanjiv. His face was now its usual color, all apprehension and surprise gone. "I don't even have to stay for dinner."

"You're here already, so you might as well eat with us," stated Mother. "I made extras. If you really want to make this up to me, then after dinner you boys can fetch me a bottle of red wine from town."

"Of course, Mother," said Cross.

Mana hoped that the red wine was for everyone. It would get the situation with his mother and his brother off of his mind, at least for a little while.

**Okay, that took a lot longer to write than I thought. Plus, I lost yesterday to fun Fourth of July festivities (Happy belated Fourth of July to my readers from the US). I also had to look up the history of matches, Liverpool, and Paris for this chapter. Unfortunately I made a mistake last chapter giving Neah a matchbook: they weren't created until 1890. Therefore, I changed it to a box of matches. I believe I've learned something new for every chapter that I've written in this story. For those of you who've only seen the anime, I decided to use the version of Mother's 'house'- seriously, I don't know what to call it- that is seen in the manga. That is chapter 206 for those who've read it. I did use the location of Liverpool, though, that is mentioned in the episode. I don't believe that the manga named the city/town Mother lived in. Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16: Der Tod und Das Maedchen

**Even though I went on a trip this weekend, I somehow managed to finish this chapter early! Thanks to Spottedpath for adding the story to their favorite list, Annie Matsukaze for also adding it to her favorite list, for reviewing and adding it to their alerts, Alice Nyte for reviewing, and ilikedan for reviewing! It means a lot everyone!**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: Gosh, I forgot to put on of these on the last chapter or two. I do not own D. Gray-man or any song lyrics used in this chapter. The version of "My Johnny Was a Shoemaker" comes from _English Country Songs_ (1893) by Lesley Nelson-Burns. Ye Hole in Ye Wall is an actual pub in Liverpool dating from the year 1726.**

**Part Sixteen: Der Tod und Das Mädchen**

"_I am a friend, and come not to punish._

_Be of good cheer! I am not fierce,_

_Softly shall you sleep in my arms!_"

Matthias Claudius

It was a very odd group in which Cross found himself: Mana, Sanjiv, and himself. Mother had put Bubba in bed, and now she wanted some red wine. The woman drank way too much at night. It made it really ironic that she lived in an old church. Cross refused to clean up after her if she ever had a hangover, though. He had spent enough time taking care of Jacqueline and then Mana on rare occasions. Mother and Mana would be like two peas in a pod if they got to know each other. However, he expected Mana to skip not only this town but the entire country once the sun rose tomorrow.

They were silent as they walked down the slippery, slush-filled path. Cross could almost hear the few sporadic snowflakes that fell from the sky hit the ground. Pretty much everything that could be said had been said. It was too big of a risk continuing to discuss the explosion outside, so they had to make do with small talk. Unfortunately, he was with Sanjiv and Mana. Sanjiv either wouldn't or couldn't make small talk and Mana... well he was a nervous wreck. It was far worse than last year in Berlin. Normally, when Mana was upset, he would act very calm until something pushed him over the edge. He'd put up a brave face, but in the end his heart always sat exposed for everyone to see. Right now, Cross was certain he was thinking of a certain wayward Noah who might or might not be up to something. The raven-haired boy kicked up slush in his path, splattering it on Sanjiv's cloak and his coat. Cross was quickly becoming annoyed. He wished that one of them would just say something.

It seemed, however, that it was up to him to diffuse the tension. "You said last year that you were going to Greece, correct?" he asked Mana. Mana looked back and nodded but then continued walking and splashing them. "How was it.?"

"It was lovely, well, until the latest revolt started," replied Mana. He didn't even turn back to look at him. They came to a stone bridge just outside the town. Mana hopped up onto the rail and began to wobble. He caught his balance and then walked on the wall.

"You better not try any tricks," grumbled Cross. "I'm not fishing you out of the river."

"That's unfortunate," responded Mana. "I'd fancy a nice swim right about now."

"You're mental," said Cross.

"I know," stated Mana with a fleeting, cheeky grin on his face. The grin never reached his eyes. He came to the end of the bridge and hopped off the wall.

"So where is the spirits store here?" inquired Sanjiv. If at all possible, the young Bookman looked more bored than usual. Obviously he wanted to buy the wine and go back to the church.

"Usually Mother buys it from a pub that's in the town square. It's only a couple blocks away," answered Cross. He began to lead the way, Sanjiv and Mana following close behind.

The streets were filled with cheerful drunks bumping into each other and wishing everyone a happy holiday season. Although they had work the next morning, most people chose to celebrate late into the night. Cross didn't really see the point of all this cheer for one week of the year. If he was a mean bitter person then he would be as mean and bitter as he damn well pleased. He supposed that this attitude wasn't the fault of the merrymakers. The light snow, the crisp weather, and the time of year all made him think of Sophia.

It had been almost a full year since he had last seen her. If he had known then that it would be the last time...

He should have said something to someone. Sure, it would be hard convincing just the average Black Order member that there were superhumans in league with the Earl, but not everyone would have doubted him. Cross knew that if he had told Mother or even Khanna, they would have been willing to help. He could imagine Khanna smashing the front door of Walker Manor down, swinging his scimitar Asha around in a fury. The Indian exorcist was rumored to have destroyed at least a dozen residences or businesses connected with the Millennium Earl. Walker Manor could have just been another 'liberation front' for the Order, but now someone else had done the job. It was because of his tight lips that Sophia was dead.

He found himself in front of Ye Hole in Ye Wall. There were people stumbling in and out of its doors laughing gaily. The place was overcrowded and looked to be a downright mess, but Mother would not be satisfied unless she had her red wine. He pushed his way into the pub and found that the bar was crowded. Several people waved to the bartenders while those who were already drunk either leaned against the bar for support or had laid their heads down in defeat long ago. It left hardly any room for them to go up to the counter and get the damn bottle of wine.

Cross began to curse under his breath as Sanjiv and Mana caught up to him. Mana looked around the pub in awe. Perhaps if he could persuade Mana to visit Liverpool again he'd take him here one night. It was definitely the kind of place the raven-haired boy would like.

"You two wait here while I get the bottle," said Cross. With that he began to push his way through the crowd until he was in front of the bar.

A voluptuous young barmaid walked up to him. "'ow can I 'elp you, sir?" she questioned.

"A bottle of Romanée-Conti, please," he requested.

The barmaid looked skeptically at him, batting her heavily made-up eyelids. "That's a bit ambitious," she commented. "Aren't you young to be drinking that by yourself? If you need company, though..."

She leaned over the bar. Cross could hear Mana guffawing in the background already , so he tried his best not to turn scarlet in the face. Apparently seeing his embarrassment was enough to push aside the thought of a certain brother for the time. "I'm afraid it's for a friend, Miss," he stated. "Perhaps some other time."

The barmaid pouted. She placed a hand on her hip. "I see. You're just going to break me 'eart," she whined.

"N-no," he stammered. Mana laughed even louder. "It's just that-"

She sighed and reached a hand out. The barmaid patted his cheek. Now Cross was certain that his face must be scarlet. "I'm only pulling your leg," she said. "'ere. Let me get your bottle o' wine. Sit tight for a moment. If you're lucky, then the show will start."

The barmaid retreated into the back room swaying her hips as she walked. There was no space to 'sit tight' so Cross settled for leaning against the bar. That's when he heard the music start.

It was an upbeat tune, perfect for a pub. However, it was not the song choice that caught his attention but the voice. It was a young voice, but it was also very beautiful, the kind of voice that melted the ice around a wintery heart. There was something awfully familiar about it. Cross whipped his head around to look at the singer.

He saw her standing there, looking happy and perfectly healthy. She had even grown a few inches, although he still stood a full head higher than her. The normal shadow of fear did not pass across her features as she sang. Instead of her usual long-sleeved cotton dress she wore a cheap green evening gown with the short sleeves falling off her shoulders. A black choker was tied around her neck covering the skin in front of her pharynx. The emerald ring he had given her last Christmas sat securely on her right ring finger. Cross couldn't think of a time he'd been happier to see Sophia.

She sang:

"_My Johnny was a shoemaker,_

_And dearly he loved me_

_My Johnny was a shoemaker,_

_But now he's gone to sea;_

_With nasty pitch to soil his hands_

_And to sail across the stormy sea,_

_My Johnny was a shoemaker._"

Sanjiv seemed to be just as shocked as he was, which was a first. Mana's gaze, however, was not fixed on Sophia but rather the pianist. It was none other than Neah Walker. The young lord had traded his finer threads for an off-white cotton dress shirt and a pair of brown trousers. His hair was very messy, much like it had been as a child. If it were not for his handsome features, it would have been easy for the brat to pass as a normal civilian. The biggest difference in Neah's appearance, though, was the large smile on his face as his fingers danced over the keys. Cross had never seen a moment when the boy looked more like Mana.

The patrons listened intently as she sang, smiling brightly at her. Some boys around his age whistled at her. Cross had half the mind to walk over there and smack them upside the head like Rhian used to do to him. They had no business whistling at a twelve- no it had been a year- thirteen year-old girl. Sophia walked away from the performance space and weaved between the tables. Her curly black hair bounced as she moved, dancing merrily over her green skirts.

"_His jacket was a deep sky blue,_

_And curly was his hair ,_

_His jacket was a deep sky blue,_

_It was, I do declare;_

_To reef the topsail now he's gone,_

_And to sail across the stormy sea_

_My Johnny was a shoemaker._"

An old man in the middle of the room stood up and offered her his seat. Sophia took his hand and then hoisted herself up onto the chair, now standing a couple heads above her audience. They began to sing along during the last verse.

"_And he will be a captain by and bye,_

_With a brave and gallant crew,_

_And he will be a captain by and bye,_

_With a sword and a spyglass too,_

_And when he is a captain bold,_

_He'll come back to marry me,_

_My Johnny was a shoemaker._"

At the end everyone applauded loudly except for Sanjiv, Mana, and himself. Sophia hopped off the chair and returned to her spot near the piano. Neah began to play another song, this one slower. Cross began to examine the room. There was a dark hallway behind the piano from which Neah and Sophia must have entered the room. The hallway was blocked by a large beefy man with thick gray hair and an even thicker moustache. He was the kind of man Cross was sure could take on Mana, Sanjiv, and himself and still emerge victorious, mostly because Sanjiv probably wouldn't help. They would have to convince the man to let them past after the performance ended. However, that would prove extremely difficult, for the man didn't seem like the kind who would want to negotiate. There was someone else, though, who might be a bit more compliant. Cross tuned them out as the barmaid returned. He had an agenda now.

"'ere's your Romanée-Conti," she chirped. Cross felt a bit sorry for the girl, for she had obviously spent some time wrapping it up nicely for him. It was unfortunate that he would have to use her obvious infatuation with him against her.

"Thank you very much," he replied with a smile. He saw her blush. "What was your name again?"

If there was one thing that Cross had learned at the Black Order, it was that girls apparently thought he was attractive. It caused him to receive a lot of unwanted attention- such as the time with Gwendolyn- but he found it could be used to his advantage. As long as he smiled the right way or paid close enough attention to what they were saying, girls would bend over backwards trying to help him. This strategy was mostly employed as a 'Khanna Alert System'. If the exorcist was keeping tabs on him, Cross might as well know who was helping him. He now knew when the exorcist was in Headquarters, who he was talking to, exactly what was said, and where his next assignment was taking him. This system had allowed him to contact Sanjiv behind Khanna's back and plan this whole escapade to Liverpool. The exorcist would never have known about the whole incident if Mother hadn't recognized the young Bookman. He'd have to worry about that later, though.

"I-I'm Ruth," she stammered.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Ruth," he stated. "Sorry about earlier, by the ways. I wasn't expecting such a crowd, but it is a holiday weekend."

"It is very crowded," agreed Ruth. "I've 'ardly 'ad the time to sit down. Those sailors over there are causing quite a ruckus."

"That's very unfortunate," said Cross, working as much sympathy into his voice as he could. "I don't suppose that there's anything I could do to help."

"I'm afraid not," she sighed. Ruth batted her eyelids again, causing some of her heavy make-up to flake off. She began to twist a loose strand of her brown hair around a finger. "Unless you want to help me carry a keg from the back..."

He was afraid it would come to this. However, if he and the others wanted to get anywhere near Neah and Sophia they needed permission to go through the back of the pub. Cross would have to take this one for the team. "Of course," he said with a fake smile. Ruth fortunately bought it, and she moved to let him around the bar.  
He returned ten minutes later with the keg, Ruth hanging on his arm. The audience applauded as Sophia finished singing the last song. Neah stood and gave a short bow before placing a hand on Sophia's back to guide her out of the main room. Mana spoke furiously in a hushed tone to Sanjiv. Cross placed the keg on the counter behind the bar, took the wine bottle from behind the counter, and then returned to his two accomplices.

"I can't believe he's here!" hissed Mana. He looked angry, but there was also a sense of relief present on his face since seeing his brother on the stage. "What the hell is he playing the piano in a barroom for?"

"That's something only he knows," responded Sanjiv. "I'd like to find out, though, for I'm sure it will make an interesting log. However, I don't think we'll be able to get past _that_."

Cross followed Sanjiv's gaze to the beefy man standing in front of the hall. "Don't worry about him," he stated. "I've taken care of everything already."

Ruth walked up to them. "'ere, I'll talk to Jeremiah for you," she quipped with a smile, winking at Cross.

Mana watched her in complete shock as she talked to the beefy man. He stroked his moustache for a couple moments before gesturing for them to follow him. The man pointed out a room at the end of the hall before leaving in complete silence. Ruth gave them a little wave before returning to work behind the bar. As they walked to their destination, Mana tried to catch his eye. "What did you do to that girl?" asked Mana.

"You mean Ruth," he remarked. "She was pretty easy to persuade. I told her that Sophia was your childhood sweetheart."

"What?" Mana questioned. He gave Cross a fascinated look. Apparently he wasn't angry about the lie. That was all for the better. "She really believed that?"

"Yes," he replied. "She's a bonafide romantic. Ruth will do anything to ensure that love conquers all."

"That can't have been all that you did," protested Sanjiv.

"Perhaps," said Cross. "Perhaps not."

Mana stopped in his tracks, staring intently at him. "You snogged her!" he exclaimed, pointing at Cross dramatically.

"What makes you say that?" inquired Cross. This was getting to be too much. All he wanted to do was question Neah about what the hell he was doing. Mana would never let him live it down if he found out he really had snogged Ruth.

The young Bookman seemed to be staring at the same thing. "You missed a bit of her lipstick," stated Sanjiv, pointing to a spot on his neck.

Damn her," he muttered. He took out a handkerchief and rubbed the remaining lipstick off while Mana snickered at him. The dumb brat taunted him for the rest of their walk down the hall, making Cross question whether it had truly been worth it. Ruth was an awful kisser, and that was saying something since he'd only ever kissed Gwendolyn that one time. When they reached the door at the end of the hall, Mana stopped laughing. Once he was certain that he was presentable, Cross knocked on the door.

oOo

"Come in!" called out Sophia. Cross opened the door to see her sitting at a small vanity against the opposite wall humming and brushing her hair. She couldn't see them in the mirror, so she continued brushing. It was a nice sight, much nicer than the somewhat stiff shyness he'd seen in Berlin. Sophia seemed to fit right into the shabby room with its unfinished wood floor and peeling light green paint. A tiny twin bed was pushed against the same wall as the vanity. The ramshackle table and two chairs in the middle of the floor finished off the cozy interior. "I'm afraid Nathan is in the other room, but if it's about tomorrow's performance-"

"Nathan?" questioned Mana.

"Bullshit," grumbled Cross. He had cursed many times before, but after working with only frustrated scientists for most of the year, his language was even gruffer. "Like hell his name is Nathan."

Sophia turned to look at them, eyes wide in panic. She gasped when she saw them standing there in the doorway. Before she could say anything else, though, a door in the adjacent wall opened. "Sophia, is everything alright?" asked Neah, shutting the door behind him tightly. He held a pocket knife in his right hand. When he saw them standing there, he dropped the knife. His eyes widened, too. "Cross, Sanjiv, Mana-"

Mana shoved his way past Cross and grabbed his brother by the front of his shirt. "What the hell is all of this?" he questioned. His golden eyes were narrowed and his knuckles white. Cross could see the older Walker boy's arms shaking as he tried to contain his growing frustration. "Here I was actually worried about you for once. If you were any other person you could've died in that blast, but here you are smiling and playing the piano like nothing happened! What were you thinking?"

Neah, however, did not seem intimidated by Mana's display. In fact, the boy _smiled_. Cross couldn't believe that the kid was even smiling as his feet dangled off the ground, his back shoved against the door. "You guys actually found me," he laughed. "I was beginning to think I'd actually have to go looking for you."

"Looking for us?" questioned Cross. "You wanted us to find you."

"Mostly you," stated Neah. "We've been working these past few months on the mainland, mostly in northern France. I was biding my time waiting to hopefully overhear where your next meeting point would be. It was difficult, for I didn't want Bookman discovering where I was or what I was doing yet. Fortunately, I ran into a bit of luck the other day when I ran into a public office to get out of the cold- I honestly don't know how you and Mana manage living like this all the time. That's when I happened across a record saying that a Mana Walker was applying for a travelling visa to Liverpool. The official Bookman stamp was next to it, so I knew that brother and Sanjiv could only be going there to meet you."

"But why would you want to find us?" interrupted Mana. "What more can you possibly have to say?"

"Well..." began Neah, "I ran away from home."

"You were the one responsible," clarified Cross.

"Yes," responded Neah.

"I thought as much," muttered Sanjiv.

"You killed a man and blew up your house," said Mana. He no longer looked furious, but he still held Neah against the wall. The older Walker looked anxiously at the younger. "Do you even think about the consequences of these things?"

"You have really high expectations of my work," commented Neah. "I did blow up the house, but I picked the man up off the street. He was dead before we even left the rally site. After that we rode off in the cart. We had to sell it outside of London, but in the end everyone was safe. Well, everyone minus the dead man."

"Good God," mumble Mana. He let go of his brother and began to walk away, running a hand through his messy bangs. Cross could see that Mana was moving quickly from brotherly anger to brotherly concern. If he was a Bookman, he might actually have been interested in this change. However, he knew Mana too well. No matter how angry the older Walker boy was, he wouldn't be able to maintain his anger against his younger brother, even if he was a jerk.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" inquired Cross. "And why would you bring along a witness?"

"Oh, I'm not a witness," clarified Sophia. "This is the first time I've even heard about how he managed it."

"You knocked her out," remarked Sanjiv blankly.

"Guilty as charged," chimed in Neah, putting on his most charming boyish smile.

The kid was much too happy at the moment in Cross' opinion. He sauntered over to where Sophia sat and began to look at her head for any injuries she may have obtained from the kidnapping episode. "I swear if there's even one mark, Neah-" he grumbled.

"I didn't hit her," replied Neah, waving his hands in front of him. "I only used the ester in the cabinet. She was asleep the entire time."

Cross glared at the younger Walker. "That's not any better," he said.

Neah only looked at him sheepishly. Sanjiv reached into his pocket and then pulled something out. He walked over to Sophia. "I found this in the ruins of the manor," he stated. He placed her pendant in her hand. "I think you might be wanting it back now."

Sophia smiled up at him, her eyes curling like commas. "Thank you," she responded. She tied the pendant around her neck so that metal portion rested on her chest just below the crevice where her collar bones met.

Sanjiv turned around to close the door to the hallway. "I suppose you used the Ark to accomplish your feat."

"That's correct," he replied. "I haven't used it since then. It's much too risky."

"Why is it too risky?" demanded Mana, finally turning to face his brother. "Does this have anything to do with what you did already? What have you been up to these past few months?"

Neah sat down on the threadbare rug in the sparsely furnished room. "You told me to find my own side," he said to his brother, "so I did."

"You're going against the Clan?" questioned Cross. He couldn't believe that Neah, perfect little Neah, would do anything against his family. The brat had worshipped the ground that the Earl walked on and never stopped talking about how great was the might of the Noah. This was the boy who had reminded him of the horrible demise waiting him once the Clan took over and reformed the world.

"Yes," he repeated. "I'm going against the Clan."

"They don't know about this yet," stated Sanjiv. "They're out there waiting for you to come home."

"Well, I wouldn't get very far if I just went out there and waved a flag saying, 'I'm a traitor!' That's daft," snapped Neah. "I need them to trust me for a little while longer."

Cross narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Why?" he asked.

Neah took a deep breath. "I'm going to kill the Millennium Earl."

Sophia gasped. Mana turned around to face his brother. Everyone in the room stared at Neah in total silence, eyes wide. Cross could hear the patrons in the pub laughing and shouting at each other down the hall. The silence felt like it lasted forever until he finally broke it.

"You are batshit insane," decided Cross.

"Neah!" cried Sophia. "You can't just do that! He's been alive for over 7000 years!"

"I can't believe your Inner Noah is letting you do this," said Sanjiv. "I would have thought the Clan would notice your intentions by now."

"We don't agree about everything," explained Neah. "Both of us, however, want to see the Earl dead. I just have to figure out how to stop myself from trying to take over the world after he's gone."

"I told you to find your own side!" hollered Mana. He looked terrified. Cross actually thought the juggler's bulging eyes would fall out of their sockets. "I didn't mean blow up houses and plot to kill an evil overlord!"

Neah looked up at his older brother. "I don't expect you to understand, Mana," replied Neah. "I don't even expect you to follow me. If you want to, you can go along with your normal life. This is something I have to do, even if I do it alone."

"Running away is enough," pleaded Mana. He knelt down to where his brother still sat on the floor and placed his hands on Neah's shoulders. "As long as the Earl doesn't have the entire family's support, he can't do anything."

"I'm only a spare, Mana. Even if I don't support him, the war will continue to drag on as an eternal stalemate. People will die even though I could have done something to prevent it.," responded Neah. "Plus, I promised Mother that I wouldn't be like him. She was terrified of the Earl's plans in the end. I've got to do whatever I can to make sure that he doesn't achieve his goals."

"Neah-" said Sophia. It was odd to hear her call the younger Walker anything besides 'Lord Neah.' Cross supposed she'd gotten past that usual barrier after traveling with him for the last four or five months.

"I made my decision long ago," he declared. "I can't turn back now."

"Do what you want," said Cross. Everyone looked at him now. Mana's eyes pleaded with him to try and convince his fool of a younger brother to forget all of this. "I'm not going to stop you. I just want to know why the hell you were looking for me."

Neah smiled, not the usual large grin, but a small sincere one. "I can't do everything by myself," elaborated Neah. "I've already had Sophia help me with a couple things. Don't worry, for in the end they won't be able to trace it back to her or you."

"Alright," said Cross reluctantly. "Spit it out already."

"Straight to the point as always," mused Neah. "I have something that I'd like for you to do. It relates to this." He pulled out a golden ball from his pocket.

Cross looked at it, but it didn't do anything. "What is it?" he asked.

"It will be whatever you make of it," replied Neah. "All I ask is that you can make it into a communication and recording device that can move on its own- quickly, I might add. Just don't spill the contents inside out when you're working. They're vital."

"And why do you think I'm qualified to do this?" inquired Cross.

"You're a magician," stated Neah. "You make things happen that couldn't happen in normal life. I've seen what the Earl is capable of with his sorcery, so I'm certain you can pull something simple like this off."

"I'm a scientist now," said Cross. "I'm not really practicing magic right now."

"Really?" questioned Neah.

"He's with the Black Order," explained Sanjiv.

Sophia raised a hand to her mouth. Neah's smile only grew into a full grin. Cross had expected the Noah to blow him to pieces on that revelation. The grin, though, was far more nefarious. He somehow felt that he should have kept that last bit secret. "That's even better," remarked Neah. "You might be more qualified than I thought."

Cross did not like the tone in his voice. It was a tone that said the younger Walker boy was thinking, and it was _never_ a good thing when Neah was thinking. "What are you thinking?" inquired Cross hesitantly.

"I want you to take a look at something in the other room," stated Neah.

Sophia stood up. "Neah, you can't!" she protested. "It's much too dangerous."

"You know, I have no idea what the hell she's talking about, but I'm going to agree with Sophia," quipped Mana.

"Then come with us, Sophia," said Neah. "It's just in the other room."

She shook terribly, but Sophia stood up to follow Neah into the other room. Cross knew that Neah was certain he would follow along with Sanjiv and Mana. He wondered how the hell the brat managed to plan these things ahead.

oOo

There was a little boy tied to a chair in the neighboring room. He had shaggy brown hair that seemed to stick up at every angle. His clothes were well-worn, reminding Cross of himself as a young child wandering the countryside. From all appearances, it seemed as if Neah had gotten into the kidnapping business. Rhian must have been rolling in her grave. She wanted them to be good, but here they were in a room with a bound boy.

"Neah," moaned Mana upon seeing the boy, "you can't just take kids off the street, especially not like this."

He would have felt sorry for the kid, but then he saw the glare. Now, Cross wasn't afraid of the kid, but there was something truly frightening about his grey eyes. His glare sent death wishes all around the room. "So you're finally back, you bastard," spat the kid.

Cross raised an eyebrow, impressed that the kid even had the guts to call Neah that. He knew that street rats like this kid said all kinds of things these days, but this had to take the cake. It only took a few moments, though, for him to realize that this was no ordinary street rat.

When the child's eyes turned to him they widened, then narrowed, and finally turned red. Cross had seen many strange and gruesome things while working in the science department the last year, but never had he seen something like this. Neah rushed forward, calling out to Sophia over his shoulder. One of the boy's hands turned into a pistol. It was now plainly obvious to him that the kid was an akuma. He pointed it directly at Cross and was about to fire when Sophia began to sing. The boy froze on the spot, and then began to cry.

"Stop it!" he howled. He struggled against his bonds trying to loosen his hands to cover his ears. "You're killing me, you bitch!"

The younger Walker grabbed the boy's pistol-hand and applied slight pressure. This only caused the kid to cry more. "Change it back," ordered Neah in a venomous tone. The boy did as he was told. "Now, you're not to transform, even if there are humans about. Do you understand?"

The boy refused to make eye contact with Neah.

"Do you understand?" repeated Neah. He articulated each syllable as he forced the boy's head up, locking on to his gaze.

"Yes," grumbled the boy.

Neah turned to Sophia. "You can stop now," he said. The boy's cries reduced to sniffles as Sophia ceased to sing.

"You're hiding an akuma in a pub full of people?" asked Sanjiv.

"Now you're asking for someone to die," muttered Mana. He looked at his brother with worry-filled eyes.

Cross, however, was truly curious how Neah had stopped the killing machine. From what he knew about akuma, everyone- minus Neah and perhaps Mana- in the room should be dead right now. Plus, there was the kid's reaction to Sophia's voice...

"We've got it under control for now," stated Neah. "We used to have to keep him out in the woods or in abandoned buildings, but now we're able to keep him a bit closer. It's mostly Sophia's doing. He's terrified of her."

The kid was giving her a wary eye, so it didn't take much for him to finally put two and two together. "When?" he inquired. Cross didn't even have to look at her for Sophia to know to whom he directed the question.

"I'm not certain," she began, "but I think it must have been the same time as Rory. There were two pieces of Innocence in the box."

"You're an accommodator?" questioned Mana. "I didn't see you do anything odd, though. The last one I saw was swinging metal chains around like they weighed nothing. I thought Innocence was a bit more... you know... active?"

"She's a parasitic type," elaborated Neah. He began to tighten the akuma's bonds. "It ended up nesting itself in her voice box. Sophia used to activate it accidentally when she sang religious music. It would give me these terrible headaches. After I thought about it, though, everything sort of clicked together- the headaches, her singing, the songs, the way Road hated her, and then that day in the basement..."

Neah trailed off there. Cross could see Neah, Mana, and Sophia's gazes all become cloudy as they thought about that day. He wondered if he looked the same way. Sanjiv didn't seem to understand or didn't seem to care, and Cross was willing to bet the latter.

"How did you manage to capture this one in the first place?" he questioned.

"It was on our journey out of the country," replied Neah. "I knew that for my plan to work that I'd need an akuma skeleton. Since I had been working with the Earl, I knew that he kept a bunch in Paris-"

"That was you?" asked Mana. "You almost killed a bunch of innocent people in that factory!"

"I was very careful about it," responded Neah. He rolled his golden eyes. "I waited until there were all a good twenty meters away. Then I order one of the Level One akuma to self-destruct and it set off a chain reaction. This one, however, almost got away, so I had Sophia capture it. She doesn't seem able to destroy akuma yet, so we had to bring him along."

"I wish I were dead," groaned the kid, clearly not amused at his capture.

Sanjiv scrutinized the kid with his dark eyes. "That's a Level Two akuma that you've got there."

"Now I'm absolutely certain that you're batshit crazy," said Cross. He felt Mana duck behind him for protection, but he didn't complain. Cross would have been surprised if Mana were not scared of the bloody thing after the incident with Pierrot. "What am I supposed to do about this?"

"I want you to study him," replied Neah, placing a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Find out exactly what makes this kid work: the soul binding, the akuma virus, everything."

"You're going to let this stupid human take me apart?" bellowed the boy. "I won't let you! If you even try then I will kill you!"

Everyone ignored the kid as he continued to rave. He really was an annoying brat.

Somehow Cross knew there would be something more to this. "Why would you want to know that?" he inquired cautiously.

"I want to create an accomplice to help me with my task," stated Neah. "It can't be a human since my _darling_ family would notice in a heartbeat. An akuma, though, would go unnoticed. There's so many of them that it would take years for the Earl to notice one of them is different."

"So you need a double agent besides yourself," remarked Cross.

"Exactly," continued Neah. "I need it to willingly refuse to respond to the Earl."

"That's crazy!" shouted the kid. "Every akuma is linked closely to the Earl. You can't just break that tie!"

"Akuma are beings with tainted souls called back by the Earl with black magic," agreed Sanjiv. "I don't know anything about the magic that goes into making them, but I think it's impossible to make one go white."

"What would you want with an akuma that won't fight?" questioned Mana.

"I didn't say that it wouldn't fight," said Neah. "It just needs to be capable of choosing not to answer the Earl, even if it must self-destruct to prevent it. My idea would be for it to be able to tell me more about Dark Matter. I'm going to need to know its limits and its weaknesses if I want to defeat the Earl."

"Even if I could make an akuma that wouldn't respond to the Earl," commented Cross, "what makes you think that I'll actually go along with this crazy scheme. I don't even know your plan yet."

"That's because it's not done yet," responded Neah. He held out the golden ball to Cross. "Although I will say this: until you figure out how to turn off this kid's killer instincts, I can't let Sophia go. That means if my family does find me, they'll also find her, and let me tell you that it would drive Road over the edge."

Cross gritted his teeth. "God damn you, Neah Walker," he muttered. There was nothing else he could do if he didn't want Sophia to become more involved besides to go along with whatever scheme he had in mind. He snatched the golden ball out of the younger Walker's hand, causing the brat to grin. Mana looked at him in disbelief.

"I'm glad we were able to reach this understanding," he chirped.

"You're going to have to move closer to Rome if you want my help," grumbled Cross. "The Black Order has me on a pretty tight leash."

"That's fine," replied Neah. "I'm sure the weather down there is much better anyhow."

"This should prove interesting," said Sanjiv. "I may have to start a new log for this one."

Mana began to shake. "You're all lunatics!" he shouted. His entire body was tense as started to pace.

"That's what I said earlier," huffed the child akuma, blowing a brown lock out of his face.

"I can't believe you're all actually going along with this!" yelled Mana. He was practically pulling his hair out. "Actively seeking to exterminate the Earl, rewiring akuma, moving to Italy... How are any of you okay with this? You'll be killed as soon as the Earl gets wind of this!"

Sophia looked up at Mana. "It's okay with me," she said, smiling at the older Walker sweetly. Mana stopped his pacing to look at her. "If it wasn't for Neah's plan, I would have been dead a long time ago. Now that I know that I have this gift, what else can I do but help in whatever way I can? As long as Neah and... well, Cross want to go along with this, then I will, too."

Cross could see her shaking terribly as she declared her loyalty to Neah's sure-to-fail plan. He placed his free hand on her back to steady her. Mana looked at all of them in despair. He finally stopped his pacing and looked down at his feet in defeat.

"There's nothing that I can say to make you change your minds," he sighed.

"I'm afraid not."

"Sorry."

"Nope."

"It's my duty."

Mana ran a hand through his bangs. "Well then I hope that you guys rent a place with room for four-"

Neah walked up and hugged his brother. Cross supposed it was a sweet moment, even if certain death was hanging above them. "You'll really come?" asked Neah, his voice muffled because of the hug.

"I promised, didn't I?" responded Mana. "What else can I do?"

The akuma child rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered. "Now I have to deal with more of you stinking humans."

**Hooray! Together at last! Our little band is now together… well, I don't know if Bookmen count. XD We'll have to see how they all make this work. A semi-exorcist, a Bookman, a Noah, a sort-of-Noah/circus performer, and an akuma all in one house. This can only lead to disaster… Please review! Feel free to PM me with any questions!**

**Extra Note: I went back and fixed the spacing on this one. It's still a bit out of sync, but it should be easier to read now. Sorry I didn't notice it before!  
**


	17. Chapter 17: Recordare

**Ah! I am in a rush right now, for I'm going on a trip this coming week (luckily this time I'll have internet access!). I'm hoping to get two chapters done this week, though the second one probably won't go up until the latter part of next week. Thanks to ThorongilAnime for the review and adding the story to her favorite's list. Thanks also go to Guest.**

**Last of all, I must give a big thank you to the Polka-Dotted Sock who (last chapter) agreed to be my beta reader for the rest of the story. I am forever in her debt!**

**Disclaimer: D. Gray-man und die Charakteren gehören Katsura Hoshino... yeah, I've run out of ideas for disclaimers.**

**Part Seventeen: Recordare**

"_Provide me a place among the sheep,  
and separate me from the goats,  
guiding me to Your right hand_."

Mozart's Requiem

After five months of loose cotton shirts, it felt odd to be wearing a starched dress-shirt and a bow tie. It was necessary, though, for him to maintain some sort of appearance with the family. Neah would just have to tolerate this visit so that he could continue to stay away from home. He doubted that his family would be as understanding if he didn't grace them with his presence every now and then.

It had been Cross' idea for him to go today. He hadn't given them an RSVP for the occasion, so he'd catch them off guard. That would give him the power over the situation so that he could get what he wanted: time and as little money if possible.

Just as he- well, he and the others- planned, his appearance caused a great shock to everyone at the dinner table. Road looked just about ready to jump out of her seat and run over to him, but she remained seated. Neah wasn't sure if it was because of her dignity or the large navy silk dress she wore. Uncle Adam was in his Millennium Earl form, grinning at him from the end of the table.

"Ah, Neah," he said. An akuma maid placed a chair at an empty spot by the Earl's right hand. "It's been too long. Why don't you take a seat?"

"Thank you," he replied with a courteous bow. Neah took his place next to the Earl. As soon as the first course, a light vegetable soup, was set on the table, the questioning began.

"We were so worried about you Neah," drawled Uncle Sheril. He blew lightly on his soup. "I thought Road would wither away before you returned. She has been pining for you this entire time. Whatever were you up to?"

"You were so cryptic in all of your messages," sniffed Uncle Jasdero.

"I was starting to think that you were doing it on purpose," added Uncle Devit.

Neah focused on bringing his soup spoon up to his mouth. His family waited and stard at him intently as he swallowed. "Well, I couldn't exactly send long telegraphs," he responded. "I didn't have time to grab any coins, so I only had the change in my pockets. You have to pay per letter when you use a public telegraph machine."

"Really?" inquired Uncle Maitora.

"How dreadful!" remarked Aunt Lulubell. She dabbed at her full red lips with her napkin. "I don't know if I could survive with only the change I keep in my purse. How did you do it, Neah?"

He then told a completely fabricated story of living on the streets and dodging anarchists. His family was fascinated, thus distracting them for through the appetizer, entrée, and cheese courses. By the end of his tall tale, they were applauding him for his bravery and his aptitude. They laughed over how disgusting the life of an average human being really was and how easy it would be to crush them all. Neah had to remind himself not to smirk. None of them really knew anything about the real world. His family was a group of gullible idiots just like any other noble family. If they were not immortal, then an average human being could probably have taken at least five of them down in twenty minutes. Of course, he'd never tell them that.

Uncle Tykki sloshed wine around in his glass. "Did you dispose of those anarchists yet?" questioned his uncle. "It really is unacceptable for them to be running about thinking they've outwitted us."

This next part would be the trickiest. Thankfully, Uncle Devit spilled his wine glass close to Aunt Lulubell's new custom-made dress from France. He had some time to think while she gave Uncle Devit a piece of her mind and an akuma maid cleaned up the offending beverage.

"I've traced them back to their hideout," he stated. "I wanted to obtain permission from the Earl before disposing of them."

The Earl grinned at him like always. "If that is what you want, then I won't stop you," the man chuckled. "Make sure you remain unseen, though. After all, to everyone else in the world you are dead."

"Right," he replied. "I've also discovered that they're only a small satellite of their group. If at all possible, I'd like to take care of the entire organization at once, that way they shall not make a fool of us again."

Everyone at the table nodded in agreement. "It seems like Neah has a personal vendetta," laughed Uncle Fiidora. His uncle had no idea how correct he was in assumption, excluding the fact that his vendetta had nothing to do with anarchists.

"It's only in his nature," remarked Uncle Tykki.

"You'll have a great time!" boomed Uncle Skinn. He swung his arms out, knocking over the akuma maid behind him as well as his dessert. His uncle glared at the maid and grumbled about how useless she was, all the while crushing his spoon in his fist.

"I'll permit it," said the Earl, taking a huge spoonful of pudding out of the dish placed in front of him. "It will be good practice for the next stage of the war. Although, do try to keep in touch this time, Neah. I'm anxious to hear about how it all pans out. Before you leave I'll even give you twenty pounds to start you on your way. I don't want to put a damper on your resourcefulness."

Neah smiled at the Earl, but felt a bit defeated. It appeared that his uncle intended to keep a bit of control over him by using his money. He had hoped that perhaps his Uncle Cyrus would have control over his account, but then again his mother had married Lord Adam Walker. There wouldn't be a dime to his name until the Earl was gone, which was the entire reason he needed the money in the first place. The only chance he had at seeing any money would be if Uncle Cyrus was dead and had left him money. That was a very morbid thought, and he didn't wish it. Plus, he wasn't certain he'd be given control over the account since he was only fifteen.

"Thank you," he responded. "I will not disappoint you all."

"When do you plan to leave, Neah?" asked Uncle Sheril. His uncle glanced at Road out of the corner of his eye.

Neah would just have to let him down. "I'm leaving as soon as dinner is over, dear uncle," he replied. "There's not a moment to lose. I do want to get back as soon as possible to help the Earl."

"Yes," seethed Uncle Sheril. If he were as strong as Uncle Skinn, he might have bent his spoon at this point, as well. "Do hurry."

"Well then, we won't keep you," announced the Earl. He held his glass aloft. "I propose a toast! To Neah: may your journey be successful and end in victory!"

"To Neah!" called out everyone else at the table. They didn't notice that he did not take a sip from his wine after the toast.

He ate his pudding as neatly and quickly as possible. As soon as he was done, he washed it down with a sip of water. Neah stood, bowed to the Earl, and then headed towards the door.

"Neah!" cried out Road. He noted that this was the first time that she had spoken the whole meal. That was certainly one to go down in the record books. "Aren't you-"

He sent a wave over his shoulder. "Until next time," he said. Neah didn't have to look back to know there was a look of utter despair on his cousin's face. He was certain he heard the rest of the family chuckling behind their napkins.

oOo

It was amazing that he'd even made it outside of Headquarters. Cross hadn't really obtained permission to leave the building, but he wasn't needed in the laboratory at the moment. He didn't think anyone would be missing him for a while, so it was time for him to make a little break for it. The most impressive part was that a certain exorcist he'd rather not be thinking about hadn't noticed him sneak out.

Cross really had not gotten a chance to appreciate the beauty of the papal city since arriving there a little less than a year ago. The large piazzas, the cathedrals, and the fountains all brought the images of long lost grandeur to his mind. It was also sobering to remember just how much power the Vatican once and still held. However, he didn't really have time to appreciate the architecture. He had a house call to make.

The first thing he noticed upon leaving the center of the city was that not everything in Rome was as beautiful as many people would think. Just like every other big city he had seen in his travels, there were the dirty parts hidden in the back streets. The farther out he travelled, the narrower and dingier the streets become. Houses were built closer and closer together with laundry hanging almost low enough to hit him in the face. He almost stepped on a dead cat on the side of the road while avoiding a group of children playing in the dirty gutter water. Cross decided to be more careful about where he was stepping.

Finally he reached the outer limits of the city. It was here past the Jewish Ghetto on the Tibur River that he stopped at a tiny rowhouse under a bridge. The entire block appeared to not have been renovated since perhaps the Middle Ages, and hardly anyone in their right mind would live here by choice. Most of the residents of this neighborhood were the very poor who had lived here for generations. This house, however, wasn't occupied by one of those families.

He was unfortunate enough to have Mana answer the door. "Cross!" exclaimed the raven-haired boy. Mana walked out in the perfect impression of an old grandmother, hugged him, and attempted to kiss him on the cheek. Cross, of course, swatted the boy away.

"Get the hell off me, Mana!" he hissed. The people on the street looked at them funnily, so he grabbed Mana by the elbow and pulled him back inside.

Mana gave him a little tour of the main room. It was pretty cramped, but they'd managed to fit six chairs around a circular table, as well as a small writing desk and a sofa. Mana proudly proclaimed how he had stolen the sofa out of a pile of trash at a junk yard. Somehow, Cross wasn't surprised, for the miserable excuse for a piece of furniture had several springs sticking out of the thin upholstery. He bent down and performed a couple spells that would allow people to sit on it without having their buttocks punctured. It also appeared as if they had made some progress in unpacking. Then again, they didn't really have anything to unpack. Neah and Sophia only had a couple pairs of clothing and a violin, so Cross had been forced to withdraw some money to buy them some proper winter clothing. He couldn't believe that Neah had left without thinking to take coats for the two of them.

"I tried to make the explosion as authentic as possible," he had said with a shrug of his shoulders as he wrapped a new scarf around his neck. "People don't flee exploding houses in the middle of August thinking that they should take a coat with them in case the weather turns sour."

Because of that brat, he was now broke. First it had been the clothing, then they needed a security deposit for the row house otherwise the landlady would kick them out, and then they were going hungry… the list went on and on and they'd only been there for about a week. Sure, his only expense was for food from the cafeteria in Headquarters, but it had been nice to have at least a little bit of security in case he ever did get fired. Of course, Khanna would probably lock him up in jail if he ever got fired.

Sophia came out from one of the back rooms, the akuma following her at a distance. He grumbled as he held a bucket of water, complaining that the little tin pan was too heavy. She smiled when she saw him. "You made it," she chirped. She came over and gave him a hug. "We were starting to think the Order would never let you go outside."

"Well, we had all these mandatory masses to attend for the past week," he replied. He'd heard enough chanting to last him a lifetime now. Cross thought back on a history book he'd once read, and how some people used to go to church every day. If all church services were as long as a Christmas Mass, it was no wonder some of the less devout humans chose to work for the Earl instead. "I don't have much time right now, though, so I had better get to work."

The akuma glared at him and held the bucket tighter. "Actually, I think I'm getting stronger," he stated, trying to side-step his way out of the room. "I'll just help Sophia."

"Sit down," ordered Cross, gesturing to the one chair in the room. He pulled on a pair of thick medical gloves. Cross felt it was best not to take any chances with the virus.

The kid looked at the front door behind Cross and then the stairs to his left. He made a dash for the stairs, so Cross jumped in front of them. Then the kid changed directions and ran for the door. Cross looked to Mana for help, but the juggler didn't seem to want to go near the akuma if at all possible. Thankfully, Sophia began to hum under her breath, making the kid stop in his tracks. He slung the kid over one shoulder and carried him to the chair.

Once he'd placed the kid down, Cross reached for the bag he'd brought with him. He extracted a syringe with a large needle. The akuma visibly paled. "What are you d-doing?" he asked.

"I want to take out some of the virus in your system," responded Cross. "We have some dry samples back in the Science Division at Headquarters, but none of them have really been useful. I'm hypothesizing that the poison runs through your body like blood, and in that case there will be traces of other things, too. For example, I may find particles that relate to your power source-"

"Wow," interrupted Mana. He leaned against the wall closest to the oven. "Hasn't Cross become a smarty-pants? I knew that you liked to read, but now you're whipping out the big boy words, too."

"Shut up, Mana," sneered Cross. Despite using one of his more threatening tones, Mana still laughed at him. There was no winning against the juggler's bizarre sense of humor. Cross decided to ignore Mana's laughter and continue with his little side project.

A knock came from the door, causing Cross to almost jab the needle through the akuma's entire arm. The kid drew back in fright, though Cross wasn't sure if it was because of the knock or the near accident. Mana picked up a dirty frying pan ready to swing it at any intruders. Sophia went to answer the door. It was only Neah and Sanjiv. Neah was still wearing a pair of clothes he must have gotten from the Ark, for they were much fancier than the cotton shirt and pants he had been wearing back in Britain. Sanjiv carried a leather rucksack on his back that held several books and a few scrolls. The young Bookman placed them on the desk. Cross hoped that Sanjiv wouldn't be living here. It was bad enough that an akuma, a Noah, an ex-Noah, and a rogue exorcist were all sharing this tiny house. Naturally, they should all be enemies (well, except for the akuma and Neah, although the boy wasn't fond of the Noah of Destruction), so Cross felt this was a very unsteady peace. Adding a Bookman would be pushing their luck.

"So you finally came around, Cross," said Neah as he unceremoniously threw his damp coat over the back of an empty chair. Sophia winced at the sloshing sound it made when it hit the recently cleaned floor.

"Bastard," muttered the kid. Neah seemed to notice his mistake then, and he moved to hang up his own coat before Sophia did it for him.

"Sorry I'm still alive," replied Cross dryly. He stuck the needle in the akuma's arm. The kid didn't even seem to notice since he was too preoccupied with glaring at Neah. "I hate to disappoint you."

"Cheeky," stated Neah as a concentrated on removing his gloves.

"How was the dinner?" inquired Sophia. They all looked around a little awkwardly. It was a topic they knew that Neah didn't want to address, and Mana didn't want to hear about. Unfortunately, though, it was necessary that they talk about it.

"It could have been worse," started Neah. "It was pretty stiff compared to past dinners. Everyone has taken to calling the Earl by his title. I was able to give them a satisfactory explanation for my brief disappearance and they full heartedly- well, at least the Earl did- gave their support for my 'revenge seeking.' I didn't even have to speak to Road, which was a nice change. Now I have at least two weeks before I must report again."

"That's good," sighed Mana, twirling the frying pan in his hands. His anxious face cleared into an easy smile. "That gives us a lot of time to get settled here."

"What about you, Sanjiv?" questioned Sophia. She picked up the pail of water and set it down in the kitchen.

"Neah sort of borrowed me from right under Bookman's nose," said Sanjiv as he sorted through his tomes. "He waited until the old geezer went out to smoke, and then opened an Ark gateway. The other Noah were out at the moment, so there was no one there to follow us."

"That's fine and dandy," stated Cross as he removed the needle from the akuma's arm. He carefully emptied the syringe into a phial, wrapped the sample up, and then placed it into his bag. The kid didn't even notice what had happened until he saw Cross cleaning and wrapping the puncture mark. He disposed of the syringe and his gloves in a small waste disposal bin he'd brought with him. The akuma looked at his arm in shock. "Were you able to get money for next month's rent, though?"

"You see-" began Neah. He didn't even have to finish, for everyone was already groaning.

"You're a lord!" moaned Cross. "I thought getting money would be easy!"

"I'm an underage lord," explained Neah. He looked like he was going to say something but then changed his mind. Something about the next part wasn't so convincing to Cross. He'd have to question Neah about it later. "I don't gain control of the estate until I turn sixteen next year."

"Well what do we do until then?" inquired Sophia. She took a seat to the left of Cross. "I know that Mana, you, and I can find work in the city, but will that be enough?"

Mana got an evil glint in his eyes. "We'll just have to prostitute somebody," he decided. Neah, Cross, and Sophia looked at him in utter disbelief. Sanjiv raised both of his eyebrows. "It's the only way. Sorry, kid."

The akuma seemed to realize whom Mana was talking about and stood up on his chair. "HEY!" he shouted. "There's no way in hell that I'm becoming someone's plaything!"

"Mana," said Cross, rolling his eyes as he secured the lid on the waste disposal bin. "This is the papal city, and prostitution is illegal. If you want to prostitute somebody so badly, then prostitute yourself."

Mana waved his hands in front of him. "Oh, nobody would want me," he stated. "I may have dashing good looks, but I'm nowhere as good looking as my _dear_ brother. What do you say, Neah?"

"Hell no," responded the younger Walker. "I'd rather beg."

"That's too bad," tittered Mana. He walked around the table to come closer to the desk. "I suppose prostitution is against the Bookman credo, right Sanjiv?"

Sanjiv didn't even deign Mana with a response. Cross presumed that that meant absolutely not. He was kind of hoping that Sanjiv would flip out and start throwing books at Neah, but that was not the case. Apparently the stoic nature of a Bookman could not be broken for personal reasons.

"I thought prostitutes were all women anyhow," grumbled Neah. Sophia seemed to suddenly realize she was the only woman in the room, causing her to begin shaking. Between Cross hitting him across the face and Mana pulling the chair out from under his brother, the younger Walker soon found himself at the mercy of his two older 'friends.'

"Absolutely not," snapped Cross. "Just because Sophia worked in your fancy old house doesn't mean that she has sell herself on the streets for you now."

"Hey, I didn't even suggest it!" retorted Neah. There was a look of complete shock on his face. The young Noah had not expected such a backlash.

"Plus she's very much underage," stated Mana. He held up his right pointer finger like a scolding school master.

"You're the one who suggested using the kid!" shouted Neah. "How do you have any right to say that?"

"I didn't actually mean it," sniffed Mana. He rolled his eyes to maximize the effect of knowing something that Neah did not.

The akuma child snickered, "I can't believe you thought that _all_ prostitutes are girls."

Neah's face turned very red to match Cross' handprint. Sophia put a hand on the countertop behind her so that she could steady herself. "I-I think we'll be fine with everyone taking up odd jobs," she stuttered. Everyone nodded in silent agreement. Cross was glad that no one had brought his name up. If they had, then he surely would have decked them.

"Plus, you wouldn't want anyone finding out that Sophia is an accommodator," added Sanjiv. "From the little I know, parasitic accommodators generally have some kind of mark on their body identifying themselves as such."

"That's right," chimed in Mana. His eyes got a faraway look in them. "Rory had a little green cross on the back of his left hand. Do you have one of those, Sophia? You don't have to tell me though, if it's too personal."

Sophia untied the black choker around her neck. Cross almost smacked his forehead, now understanding why she always wore the choker. He couldn't fathom why he hadn't noticed the green cross all those years ago. She must have hidden it under high dress collars and now this choker for years. Soon he realized that everyone in the room was staring at the green cross as if enchanted, even the akuma kid.

"It's not too personal at all, Mana," she responded. "I just receive a lot of questions about the choker at times, though I think people come to accept it."

"Does it… hurt?" asked the juggler, his wide golden eyes reflecting the subtle green cross.

"Not usually," she said. "I did have a sore throat for a few days, though, after Neah attacked the factory in Paris. I think I overexerted myself, so I'll have to be careful next time."

Cross decided to use the akuma child's preoccupation once again. Using just a little bit of magic he made one of the kid's bullets drop out of his right ear. The kid shook his head head, waking from his momentary trance. "How did you do that?" he inquired.

"Magic," replied Cross simply. He used a pair of tweezers to pick up the bullet and place it into an empty tin can.

"Yeah right," snorted the kid.

"Oh but he did," stated Mana. The evil grin was now plastered across his face again. "Cross might be an amateur scientist right now, but he's a damn good magician. If he really wanted to, he could make you disappear off this plain of existence."

"Sure," responded the kid. Cross could see a bit of what looked like fear in the akuma's eyes. Perhaps akuma really could be afraid of something besides the exorcists and Innocence.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" exclaimed Neah. He walked back over to his coat and pulled out several pieces of paper. "I got these from the Earl today at dinner. They're new plans that he wanted me to look over."

"Well then, let's see them," replied Cross. It would be to all their advantage if they knew the Earl's plans ahead of time. That way they could either mess them up ahead of time or at least be prepared.

Neah spread the papers across the table, smoothing out the creases. Cross stood up from his spot next to the akuma child to get a better look. There were several sketches on the first sheet and at least two pages of calculations to go with them. The others also drew closer to the table so that they could read the plans. Mana's eyes became wide as he picked up a sheet across the table from Cross. "These are plans for a Level Three akuma!" he cried out. He dropped the paper back on the table.

"It appears so," stated Sanjiv. "The only question is if it's really possible."

"It seems like there hasn't been any success stories yet," sighed Neah. "The Earl generally uses a replacement spell to switch a Level One akuma to a Level Two form. I'm not certain why he has to do it, although they tend to explode if he doesn't."

"Akuma at their basic roots are machines," explained Cross. He saw the kid frown out of the corner of his eye. "Machines wear out over time. Considering everything that an akuma does, I'd expect that they need to have parts replaced quite frequently. Now these parts may not be suitable for a Level Two akuma. Since a Level Two akuma is more powerful it's quite likely the Level One skeleton cannot contain its power."

"So if I become more powerful, I'm going to explode?" asked the kid.

"It seems so," responded Cross.

"Great," groaned the kid. He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms. "Just great."

"These equations look all wrong," remarked Neah. "I don't recognize these symbols."

Cross looked at the page the young Noah held. "Thos are magic symbols," he commented. "Looks like it involves some pretty advanced sorcery."

"I guess that's why he has all those Skulls hanging about in his laboratory," said Neah.

"Skulls?" inquired Sophia. Her face now matched Mana's frightened expression.

"I don't mean bones," clarified Neah. He picked up a blank sheet of paper from the desk and quickly sketched something. When he placed it in the middle of the table, all Cross saw were misshapen squiggles. "They look something like that."

"So they look like a vulture crossed with a lion," stated Mana.

Neah glared at his older brother. "No they're not!" he insisted. "That's its skull head and the big overcoat they wear."

Cross concluded that Neah couldn't draw for shit. Before the tension between the brothers could build up again, Sanjiv walked over to the desk and pulled a leather notebook out of his bag. He flipped to a page somewhere in the middle and put it on top of Neah's drawing. "Here," said the young Bookman. "That is a Skull."

It was a much better drawing. The Skull did indeed have a skull for a head and what had been a mane on Neah's drawing turned out to be a fur-trimmed coat. It was a rather frightening looking creature but not nearly as bad as the Millennium Earl. There was something written next to it in a language that Cross could not understand. He supposed it was either a secret Bookman script or, less likely, Sanjiv's native tongue, whatever that might have been. After everyone had gotten a good look at it, Sanjiv closed the log and returned it to the bag.

"Skulls work as sorcerers for the Earl," elaborated Sanjiv. "They're mostly involved in the process of making akuma skeletons."

"I guess working with this kid is right up your alley then, eh Cross?" commented Mana. He winked at him, and Cross felt his eye twitch.

"Well, all I know is that we do not want him making any of these just yet," stated Neah. He began to shuffle through the papers until his gaze zoned in on one. "It appears that he's obtaining some of the parts from a factory in southern Italy. If we can take that out, then that should slow him down for a while."

"Wouldn't it be a bit too obvious?" questioned Cross. "You just destroyed that one in France. One time is an accident, but twice becomes a coincidence. That's when people start to become suspicious."

"Well what else can we do?" demanded Neah. He began walking in circle around the room. "I can't let the Earl get ahead, so I've got to do everything that I can to slow him down! If he actually succeeds in making a Level Three akuma, then what's not to say that he'll keep going? You don't understand him like I do, Git."

"Don't call me 'Git,'" seethed Cross. He was sorely tempted to throw the hazardous waste bin at Neah, but there was too much of a risk of hitting the others in the process. If only the brat would keep still…

"We should do something," said Sophia. Cross couldn't believe she was saying this. Neah gave him a very smug look. "Cross is right, though, Neah. You can't just go barging in like the last time. You'll have to make it look like it was connected to somebody else."

"Well then who?" asked Neah. His face now had a sour look after hearing he'd have to actually wait. "If 'accidents' are too suspicious then I guess 'anarchists' are out, too."

"There's the Cosa Nostra in Sicily," remarked Sanjiv. He finished straightening out his books on the desk and then took at seat at the table.

"Who?" inquired Neah. He looked at Sanjiv, but the young Bookman gave no inclination that he'd fully explain the term Cosa Nostra.

"Oh, yeah!" exclaimed Mana. He crossed his hands behind his head. "There's a bunch of thugs down in the south that pretty much run the black market. They're a nasty group of fellows. They beat me up one time because one guy's daughter tried to run away to the circus I was in at the moment."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," stated Cross, shaking his head. "I'm not sure it's a good idea to get those guys involved. They may be crooks, but they shouldn't have to take the fall for your actions, Neah."

Neah stood there in thought for a moment. "I guess you're right," he agreed. There was still a look of determination in his eyes. "Still, it can't hurt to see if there is any animosity between them and the owner of the factory."

"Fine," said Cross. He walked over to where his bag sat and picked it up. "Just don't do anything brash and stupid."

"Why would I do that?" questioned Neah innocently.

Cross jerked a thumb at his brother. "You're related to that one, and if you haven't figured it out yet, he's the king of brash and stupid," replied Cross. Mana stuck his tongue out at him. Neah eyed his brother warily, as if he were seeing him in a new light. "I have to get back to Headquarters before Khanna realizes that I'm gone. Good night."

"Thank goodness we're done!" cheered the kid. He hopped out of the chair and started to run up the stairs. "I hope you get caught!"

"Very funny," responded Cross. He turned to address the others. "I'm going to test the poison for any signs of metal corrosion. It should tell us how advanced of a Level Two he is. We don't want him to self-destruct on us. See if you can get me any more blueprints on akuma. I want to see what kind of controls they are using. There's a chance I could turn off basic mission plan."

"Right," stated Neah. He stood up from the table. "I'm going to change and then check on the kid. Until next time, Cross."

"Don't forget that I must return to Paris tonight," commented Sanjiv. He picked up his bag. "I don't think the old geezer will let me out of his sight ever again if I'm not back soon."

Mana walked over to Sanjiv and flung an arm around his shoulder. "But there's a spare room just for you!" exclaimed the juggler. "Come on, Sanjiv."

The young Bookman pushed Mana's arm off of him and moved to stand as far away from the older Walker as possible. Mana started to pout. Neah fixed his brother into a peculiar stare and then turned to address Sanjiv.

"I'll be back down in ten minutes," said Neah. He began to climb the stairs. "Be ready to go then."

Cross threw his coat on and opened the door. He could see a light rain falling, so he pulled the hood of his coat up. It was really about time that he started looking for a hat. Sophia waved at him as he left. "Be careful!" she called.

"I think I'm plenty safe," he called back. Already he could hear Mana starting to bother Sanjiv once again. "It's all of you together in this house that I'm worried about."

**This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Thanks to ilikedan for the inspiration about the prostitute part. XD It just ended up fitting there. I also want to thank her for giving shout out to this story in the latest chapter of _Another Side_. You guys should really check it out, for it's a wonderful read. The basic premise is that like this story it chronicles the plight of Neah, Cross, Maria, and ilikedan's OC Lizzy who I adore. It's in the final arc, so check it out now before it is over (or check it out then too because it will still be good XD)!**

**This is the first of several chapters that will contain multiple points of view. Generally, the point of view will change whenever you see the section break symbol (oOo). Please review!**


	18. Chapter 18: Sanctus

**I apologize profusely for updating so late. I got very sidetracked… by Doctor Who. So good. I'd full heartedly recommend it for anyone who likes sci-fi and fantasy. Thanks to ilikedan for the lovely review!**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: I can't even draw like Hoshino in my wildest dreams.**

**Part Eighteen: Sanctus**

"_The heavens and earth are filled with your glory._

_Hosanna in the highest!_"

Faure's Requiem

There was something off about his apprentice. He wasn't quite sure when it had begun- no he knew exactly when. It had been the day that Neah Walker had first come to him asking for his assistance in exchange to see history made. Junior's latest persona 'Sanjiv' raised his eyebrows, a clear sign of his interest. Of course, he too had been interested in what the young Noah had to offer. It would have gone against his credo to refuse a chance to gain crucial information, for that meeting between Neah and Mana had been crucial. Bookman had expected his apprentice's interest in Neah Walker to end as soon as that meeting was over.

He had been dead wrong.

Junior didn't stop pursuing more information on the Fourteenth after that day. For an entire half a year Sanjiv had kept a separate log on the exploits of Neah, Mana, and the magician Cross. He almost cursed himself for training the boy so well. His apprentice truly was zealous about his work. Only after the unfortunate destruction of Walker Manor did the boy cease to log about the Fourteenth. Bookman was almost glad to see the place go. That meant he could finally get back to training his apprentice without fearing that a certain golden-eyed teenager would pop by for a chat. The boy was after all only seventeen years old. It would be many more years before he'd actually carry the title of Bookman.

That peace didn't last long because on a blasted day in late August he'd received a telegraph from Cross asking them to pass a message to Mana. He wasn't in the business of favors- especially when it concerned smaller players in the game such as the magician- but he had mentioned Mana. A chance to hear from the renegade Noah wasn't one to miss, and Sanjiv had jumped at the opportunity. Bookman had thought little of it at the time, but now he was certain he should have gone to Liverpool in December. It was plainly obvious that something pivotal had happened, but he didn't know what.

To make matters worse, Neah Walker showed up again out of the blue. Surprisingly the young Noah didn't hang about the flat in Paris as he once did, but instead dragged Junior off to places unknown. This happened almost every day for the first six weeks of the year, and by mid-February he had had enough.

He decided to address Junior about his disappearances one Sunday afternoon when Neah failed to show up and steal the boy. Sanjiv was practicing transcribing the text of a Roman history book into the different dialects of Mandarin Chinese. He seemed to sense his presence and looked up. "Is something the matter?" asked the boy.

Bookman stared down- well, not exactly down, but eye to eye- at his apprentice for a couple minutes before speaking. "You have been more withdrawn recently," he commented. "I know that 'Sanjiv' isn't one who favors the spoken word, but as your mentor I do expect to be informed."

"Informed about what?" inquired Junior innocently.

This was something new. Never in the past nine years had his apprentice spoken back to him like that. It was mildly interesting that the boy had any opinion upon sharing whatever information he might possess, but also very infuriating. Bookman knew that Junior was by nature- not as a persona- very ambitious. It was the one characteristic that the boy couldn't seem to tame, the one bit of his own personality that he carried with him wherever they went. Because of this one flaw, Bookman had to be very careful about what assignments he gave his apprentice. He liked the boy's dedication to his studies, but more often than not he took his duties too far. It would be a long time before Junior would be ready to become the Bookman.

Bookman breathed in silently and deeply to prevent any frustration from showing in his face. "You have been running about with Neah Walker ever since the boy returned," he replied. "I'm just curious why the boy needs you around."

"Perhaps he's lonely," suggested Junior. His attention was fully focused on the book in front of him, a clear sign to Bookman that his apprentice wasn't telling the real story. That was definitely a concern, for a Bookman would never lie to someone else in the Clan, especially when that member was older and had more authority. Plus, lying was a clear sign of showing that one cared about something…

"I'm sure he would call on someone else first," stated Bookman while folding his hands in front of him. "He isn't exactly fond of you as far as I can tell."

"Well, I think at this point he's willing to talk to anyone," said his apprentice. He flipped a page in the book lazily with the flick of a wrist. "Even if it is me."

"Talk?" questioned Bookman. He turned away from his apprentice to look out of the closest window. "What does he talk about?"

"Nothing in particular," responded Junior. "He just rambles."

"He knows perfectly well that we're not here to listen to ramblings," remarked Bookman. This was beginning to pull on his nerves. He opened the window and pulled out a cigarette. "Besides, Road would be more than willing to listen to such nonsense. She'd make a much better audience. I want to know what Neah wants to talk about with you during every possible spare moment of your time."

Junior did not reply. Bookman appeared to have made an impact, though, for the boy no longer flipped through the pages of the history book. He stood there silently for several minutes waiting for his apprentice to speak, but Junior never did. Apparently 'Sanjiv' was not giving up that easily. The boy didn't express anything on his face, but Bookman could practically see the wheels in his brain turning.

"If you're feeling so reflective," began Bookman, "then go and meditate. We'll talk more about this later."

His apprentice closed the book and tucked it under his arm along with the scroll he had been writing on. Bookman finally lit his cigarette and took in a long draw. He was right that something suspicious was going on, and now he knew that his apprentice wouldn't be giving up that information as easily as the last time. The boy was probably even keeping a separate log again. Maybe if this were another place, another persona, another page in history he would have forgiven Junior easily again. However, this was still about Neah Walker and most likely his brother and that magician. It was one thing to have contacts, but it looked like 'Sanjiv' had developed ties.

A Bookman must always remain unbiased and removed from the world. Only then could he become enlightened about the events around him. Junior's past personas had done relatively well in that aspect. 'Sanjiv' seemed to disobey every aspect of that rule.

He could ask Junior to change personas, remove 'Sanjiv' from the picture entirely. That would be very troublesome, though, for the boy would then have to develop a completely new identity, thus losing valuable recording and training time. Then he'd have to explain the concept of personas to the Earl, and that was a whole can of worms he wasn't willing to open. Yes, changing personas would cause more problems than it would solve.

He finished his cigarette and extinguished it on an ashtray sitting on the window sill. Bookman then shut the window. That was when he noticed that it was too quiet. Of course, meditating didn't really require one to make noise, but he should still be able to hear his apprentice breathing. As a Bookman, he had a very good sense of hearing. When he walked over to the bedroom and opened the door, sure enough, Junior was nowhere to be found. Once again Neah Walker had taken advantage of the situation and spirited his apprentice away without his permission.

Bookman decided he would have to play along with this game. If Neah wanted a Bookman to observe whatever he was planning, he was definitely going to get more than what he'd bargained for…

oOo

Neah was a slave driver. That was about the only thing Cross was certain about anymore. He knew it well from his time back at Walker Manor, but eight years had made the brat even worse. Somehow- probably with the help of the Ark- Neah had left him over thirty messages on the table in his room asking him about the stupid gold ball. Cross finally decided to get a start on the project after finding his bed covered in notes containing Neah's loopy handwriting. Maybe the boy would stop giving him grief then.

He managed to borrow a small desk lamp from Dr. de Orta after the elderly head of the Science Department gave him a stern warning about how the glass bulb could explode in his face if he let it become too hot. Cross had yet to see this happen to anyone, but he'd just have to take Raphael's word for it. He had to admit that the whole concept of a lamp was very intriguing as well as the developing electrical system that the lab utilized. The only reason they hadn't announced this major development was that it was indeed far from perfect. On occasions when the system was overworked the generator would stop working or even catch on fire. Someday soon, though, they'd be able to trade in the oil lamps around Headquarters for the much brighter electric lights.

The solitary lamp gave off a small yellow halo of light as Cross set down a toolbox to start working on the… Thing. He wasn't quite sure what to call it yet, and after sixteen hours of work Cross was in no mental state to think of a name for the Thing. It only took a couple of seconds before he realized that all of the tools he had were much too big for the Thing.

"Damn it," he muttered. Cross ran a hand through his hair, only to have it flop in his face like every time. He was really going to have to see a barber sometime soon, but for now all he could do was tie it back. As a magician he had kept it moderately long- not nearly as long as Mana's, though- but now it was just becoming obnoxious.

He glared at the Thing. Its golden gleam reminded him of the eyes of a certain Noah who was probably wallpapering his room in notes at the moment. Cross really didn't want to give up and go back to that particular mess, so he would have to find a way around this issue. If only the ball were bigger…

Suddenly he got a brilliant idea. He looked around the laboratory. Of course, just like earlier no one was there. Cross took out a blank piece of paper and quickly wrote down several magic symbols in the shape of a circle. After he looked the symbols over he placed the golden ball in the middle. Now all he needed was the correct command. It was a more difficult kind of spell than those he had used in the circus, a much more archaic kind of magic. This kind of a spell needed a set word to activate it. It could be any word, but it must be carefully chosen. Words have a secret power- whether it was their basic definition or the perception they created- and choosing the wrong word could make an entire spell go wrong. Cross pulled a dictionary off a nearby bookcase and began flipping through the pages. After scanning several entries in the translations section he found the word he felt best fit. He held his right hand over the ball.

"Kaizen," he whispered. The Thing began to glow with golden light as it grew larger. When it reached the size of a bowling ball he stopped the spell. Now he would be able to work.

Cross touched the Thing only to have it open up. He was careful to keep it upright for there were some ashes inside. Neah had mentioned this to him earlier, but Cross still didn't know where the ashes had come from. Considering who Neah was he wasn't entirely certain whether he actually wanted to know the answer. Still, these ashes were going to make it difficult to work. He looked around the lab bench until he found a small cylindrical receptacle about the size of a child's thumb. Cross proceeded to use another spell to transfer all the ashes into this sealed container. He'd ask Neah what to do with them later.

Now he had to decide where to start. Neah had some pretty lofty and vague demands for the Thing. Transmitting messages, recording events, moving by itself… it sounded like science fiction even to him, and he was a magician. From what he had seen so far in the Science Department, they were not even close to making moving machines. The Millennium Earl also seemed incapable of this, for akuma did have souls. Cross supposed that this made them alive.

He sat and brooded in silence for a few moments. That's when the ringing began. Cross jumped out of his seat when he heard it, almost knocking over the lamp. The ringing didn't stop, though. After he calmed down a bit he began to wonder what was causing the noise. Noise generally meant that someone was making it, so obviously someone else was working overtime on a private project. Cross knew that some of the scientists were pretty zealous about their research, but continuing to work after a fourteen hour shift was ridiculous. He wasn't here by choice after all.

Since he didn't have any ideas for the Thing yet, Cross decided to go and investigate the noise. Hopefully it would be someone who could give him some sort of idea where to begin. Then again, it could be Neah messing around. Cross really hoped that it wasn't Neah. He lit a gas lamp to carry with him and started on his journey. The first two doors he passed were locked, but the third door was slightly ajar. There was light coming through the crack, so Cross knocked on the frame of the door. His knock was followed by a crash and a renewal of the ringing sound. Someone inside the door began swearing in Italian. The door swung back bringing Cross face to face with a short, portly, middle-aged Italian man. He looked furious.

"Accidenti!" the man spat. "What are you doing up, boy?"

"Sorry, sir," said Cross, although he practically had to shout over the persistent ringing. "I was working in the other room when I heard that ringing noise. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright over here."

"It would be if you hadn't scared me," grumbled the man. He pulled at his full graying beard. "Now I have dropped my invention and the damn thing won't stop ringing."

Cross looked over the man's thick arm to see a black metal box on the floor. Several wires of different colors protruded from the base of the box while two round bells sat on top. The bells shook constantly creating the piercing ringing noise he had heard earlier. "Let me pick it up for you, then," offered Cross. He walked past the man into the smaller laboratory.

"You should," sniffed the man. "I've been working on that for years, and now you've come and messed it up!"

"I said I was sorry," replied Cross. He noticed the bite in his voice when he spoke, showing just how long of a day it had been. "What is this thing anyway?

"This, my boy," began the middle-aged man proudly, "will change the future of communication as we know it. It's an electromagnetic voice transmitter."

Now Cross was very interested. He could care less about the electromagnetic part- he'd contemplate that later- but the man had said voice transmitter. "You're planning on using this to talk with people over a distance."

"Exactly," replied the man with a look of excitement clear in his eyes. "I made a model system in my home last year, but the Science Department wouldn't take a look at it. They wanted something larger scale that can carry voices long distances. This model here is- hopefully- the answer to all of this."

"That sounds brilliant," stated Cross.

The middle-aged man began to look at him suspiciously. "You're not here to steal my invention, are you?" asked the man.

"No, why would I do that?" inquired Cross. This man was making him very sour. "I have my own projects Mr…"

"Antonio Meucci," responded the man with a curt nod of his head. "You're that new boy, right?"

"Yes," replied Cross. "Although I wouldn't call being here almost a year 'new.' "

"Raphael didn't put you up to this, no?" questioned Mr. Meucci.

"Of course not," said Cross. "I already have enough work as it is. I already told you I only came because I heard the noise."

"I suppose I should be a little quieter," agreed Mr. Meucci. He walked over the ringing box and put it back on the lab bench. It continued to ring, so the scientist pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and started pulling out wires. "Merda! I may have to start all over on this model."

Cross walked over cautiously to the lab bench. He noticed that the box was hooked up to a smaller generator by a thick wire. He pulled the wire out of the generator and the ringing stopped. "So this uses the electrical system to somehow transmit the voice?" he asked.

"Yes," stated Mr. Meucci. He gave Cross a brief smile of thanks. "I need the electrical system to make the speaker and microphone work."

"What?" questioned Cross. He hadn't heard of a speaker or a microphone before. It was probably some new bit of technology that Mr. Meucci or someone else in the department invented. He began to think that he should look around the department more during his breaks.

Mr. Meucci shook his head. "I suppose you haven't heard of any of this," he tittered. "I can give you a brief description of my invention, but you must not tell anyone else about it. Do you swear that you won't tell?"

Antonio Meucci was a very strange man, a man Cross wasn't sure he could trust in the long run. However, he seemed to be the current expert on voice transmission. He would just have to take a chance with this fellow and hope that he didn't do anything to piss him off. "Yes, Mr. Meucci," replied Cross.

"Good, very good," stated Mr. Meucci, clapping him on the back. "How about you hand me those tweezers over there? The small ones with the rubber grip."

oOo

It had been a long time since he had been this exhausted. The last time was probably when he had stayed up all night helping Mr. Ziegler and Matilda look for Jacqueline after one of her wilder nights. He was certain there must be bags under his eyes just like on Mr. Meucci- although he probably didn't look as old and haggard as the man- but he'd just have to sport them with pride. His shift would be starting in half an hour.

They had made considerable progress over the night. The wires no longer stuck out of the box and the bells were silent. Cross had been surprised to find that the black metal box held a relatively simple system: a speaker, a microphone, a hook switch, a duplex cord, a ringer, and the keypad and frequency generator. It was simple, but genius. Now all they needed to see was if the system actually worked.

Mr. Meucci plugged the thick wire into the generator. "Alright," he declared. "We are ready to run the long distance test. I will go to a model I have set up on the top floor of Headquarters. You wait here and wait for it to ring around 6:30. If all goes as planned then we should be able to communicate."

"Yes," said Cross. Mr. Meucci looked anxiously at the door and the black box. "I won't let anyone touch it, Mr. Meucci."

"Yes, yes. Of course not," replied Mr. Meucci. "I better be off."

With that the Italian scientist left. It would take the man around twenty minutes to reach the top of Headquarters, so Cross began to examine the extra parts on the lab bench. They appeared to be small enough to fit inside the larger gold ball. There would still be plenty of room to fit other parts inside. He'd have to find a way to plug it into one of these devices. He wouldn't go so low as to steal another scientist's work completely. Mr. Meucci could take all the credit for this invention as far as Cross was concerned.

Other scientists began to walk through the dim hallways past the laboratory. Most of them were still rubbing sleep from their eyes or drinking coffee, so luckily no one bothered to look through the open door.

At 6:30 AM on the dot, the black box began to ring. Cross picked it up during the second ring. "Hello?" he inquired hesitantly.

"Cross!" exclaimed Mr. Meucci. It was a bit disturbing to hear the man's voice coming from the speaker inside the receiver. "Did the phone ring?"

"Yes," he replied.

"How many times?" questioned Mr. Meucci.

"Twice," responded Cross.

"That's the same over here," said Mr. Meucci. "This is going very well, very well indeed."

Cross heard someone stop outside the door and knock on the doorframe. It was Dr. de Orta. "Cross, whatever are you doing?" he asked. "I found the lamp still running on your lab bench. Did you think about what could have happened? It could have caused a fire or exploded or…"

He really wasn't in the mood to be scolded b y Dr. de Orta. However, the head of the department has a good point, for he had left the parts for the Thing on his table. Cross handed the receiver to Raphael de Orta. "I'm terribly sorry, sir," he stated. "I'll go take care of it right now. Could you take this, though?"

"What is this?" questioned Dr. de Orta. He held the receiver out at arm's length.

"Cross!" shouted Mr. Meucci on the other line. "Where are you going?"

Raphael looked at the receiver in wonder. Still holding it far away from his head, he spoke again. "Antonio," he said. "Is that you?"

"Dr. de Orta!" exclaimed Mr. Meucci. "I was hoping to talk to you about this today, but this is even better! This is the electromagnetic vocal transmitter I was telling you about. What do you think?"

"Well it certainly works," admitted Dr. de Orta, scratching his head. "Where are you now?"

"On the top floor, sir," said Mr. Meucci.

"Come down to my office so we can discuss this development," commanded Dr. de Orta. "I want to put you in charge of more trials. Then we can take this to the Chief."

"Are you suggesting this is a fluke?" demanded Mr. Meucci.

Cross honestly couldn't follow the Italian scientist's train of thought. He was completely ecstatic at one moment and then furious the next. When the two scientists began squabbling over the phone Cross picked up some extra parts from Mr. Meucci's lab bench and headed back towards the main laboratory.

oOo

A few days later he returned to the house on the outskirts of Rome. Surprisingly Neah answered the door this time. After cracking a couple jokes about just how long did it take him to figure out how to open the front door, Cross went straight to business. He pulled the Thing out of his bag.

"What did you do to it?" asked Neah, looking it over with a critical eye. "I'm pretty sure it was a lot smaller when I gave it to you. How is this supposed to go unnoticed?"

"I'll shrink it later," responded Cross. "I can't work with something that small. There wouldn't be any parts that would fit in it then."

"Why don't you just shrink the parts?" questioned Neah.

This conversation was quickly becoming more annoying than working with Antonio Meucci. Cross ran a hand through his hair and blew the remaining strands out of his face. "The idea is for me to complete the- the _Thing_ with the parts at normal size and then shrink it," elaborated Cross. "It's much less complicated that way."

"Right," said Neah. The young Noah crossed his arms in front of his chest and walked around the Thing. "What did you do to it?"

Cross reached into the large bag yet again and pulled out two boxes. Out of the first box he removed one of the black metal boxes and unplugged the receiver. He took a cord connected to the Thing and placed it in the transmitter jack. Then he stretched a different cord over to a wall jack where Neah and Sanjiv had set up a telegraph machine. Cross disconnected the wire from the machine and plugged the box into the wall jack. The second box contained a small portable generator. He plugged the metal box into the generator and motioned for Neah to come over.

"Turn this crank," he ordered Neah.

"What?" inquired Neah. He narrowed his eyes.

"You've worked before," stated Cross while rolling his eyes. "All you need to do is turn the crank to generate an electric current. I'm expecting another scientist to call in the next five minutes."

"Call?" questioned Neah, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He started turning the crank, albeit slowly. Apparently he wasn't quite as strong as his older brother. Cross began to consider checking the house to see if Mana was around. "What do you mean call?"

The bells on top of the box began to ring, causing Neah to stop turning the crank momentarily. "Answer," Cross said to the Thing. The voice transmitter stopped ringing. "This is Cross."

"Ah good," sighed Dr. Meucci's voice over the line. "The connection is able to traverse the city. Just leave the equipment in my office when you return."

"Yes, sir," stated Cross. He pressed the hook switch to disconnect the call and then began to pack away all of the equipment.

Neah stared at the Thing with wide eyes. "It talked," was all the young Noah managed to say.

"Yes, it did," replied Cross. "We used the telegraph cables to connect this voice transmitter to another one at Headquarters. It uses sound waves to-"

"Look, I don't really care about whatever science goes behind it," interrupted Neah. "Do I have to use one of these box things in order to be able to talk to someone else?"

"I haven't been able to make then mobile yet," explained Cross. "I'd probably have to put a tracking device inside of them so that they could connect to the telegraph system."

"But I don't want it to be traceable," said Neah with a frown.

"I didn't think so, but I could put in something else to block any locating signals," continued Cross. "I can probably use some of the parts in there already to make it record sound. Visual recording will be much more difficult. Then all that's left is the movement and whatever those ashes are."

"That's something that I need advice about," admitted Neah. "Those ashes were once a message on a piece of paper. I need for them to reconstruct as a type of visual projection so that someone else can read them."

Cross was starting to think that the damn Thing was going to be a lot more work than he expected. As annoyed as he was with this thought, he couldn't help but to be a bit excited. After all, the Thing was now a part of a new high speed communications network. The Thing would be something completely new to the world, for all he knew it might change it entirely.

Mana came down the stairs into the main room, shouting over his shoulder. "Just stay put for a few minutes," he called out.

"But I don't see the point of standing here with these books on my head!" shouted Sophia from the upper floor. There were a few thumps as what was probably the books fell off of Sophia's head.

"It's a good exercise for learning good posture!" he exclaimed. "I won't let my _dear_ family keep you from becoming a proper young lady, so put those books back on your head."

"But I'm not a proper young lady," protested Sophia. "I'm a maid turned barroom singer! People could care less about the way I act as long as I look nice and don't cause trouble."

Cross found that last bit concerning. He'd heard many of the young women at the circus saying the same thing about their profession. Eventually they'd fall into a cycle of despair that led to alcohol abuse and manipulative boyfriends who would promise them the world but then leave them in the dust for some more respectable girl. He decided that he would talk to Sophia about this later. Cross didn't want her living her life like that.

Mana gazed sadly up the stairs. "I think there's more to you than a pretty face and a beautiful voice, Sophia," he said. "People are just using your talents in an attempt to keep you tied down to the lowest rungs of life. I can see you want more than that, but you've got to show them that you're just as good as they are if you want to achieve your goals, whatever they may be. Besides, even if you end up being a farmer or a peanut vender these skills could help you someday. I've always believed that you have to keep on learning new things for your entire life."

Cross heard Sophia moving upstairs to pick the books up off the floor. "Alright, Mana," she groaned. "But it doesn't change the fact that this really hurts. You should try balancing four of Sanjiv's books on top of _your_ head sometime."

"Perhaps after dinner," responded Mana. He turned to face Cross and Neah, and then spotted the Thing. "What's this?"

"It's a…" trailed Neah, obviously racking his brain for some sort of name.

"Thing," replied Cross. He gestured at the golden ball in a grand matter, almost perfectly imitating Mana. "The Thing."

He looked at them for a moment and then burst out laughing. It was rather infuriating in Cross' opinion. "The Thing!" snickered Mana. He put one hand on his side and used the other to support himself on the table as he continued to laugh. "I think it's going to need a better name than that. Isn't it a bit bigger than the last time I saw it?"

"Yes," answered Cross. "I needed it to grow larger so that I could fit the new parts inside."

Mana began poking the Thing. "What does it do?" he asked.

"Well, it transmits sound now, and-" started Neah. He didn't get to finish the basic explanation for all of a sudden the Thing opened its mouth. Cross had not been aware that the Thing had a mouth or any other opening besides the flap in the back where he'd inserted the new parts. The Thing apparently also had a full set of fanglike teeth. It snapped at Mana's hand, causing the older Walker to pull it back quickly.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed in fright. "It tried to eat me! Why did you give it all of those teeth, Cross?"

"I didn't give it those teeth!" he spluttered. He began to look for some paper to write down a freezing spell. "I only put in the communication equipment."

The Thing began to glow gold and expand once again. That was a new one. It was now the size of a small shrub. The Thing attempted to lash out at Mana again, but it couldn't reach. This failure didn't stop the Thing, so it attempted to roll off the table. It was blocked in, however, by the boxes containing the voice transmitter equipment.

"Well, it's still bloody violent," spat Mana. He ducked as the Thing whipped its tail at him. The tail barely missed him. "What did I do to provoke it?"

"You were poking it," replied Neah, also ducking the cord. "That wasn't exactly what I'd call smart. Did you do anything else to it, Cross?"

"Why do you two assume that it's all my fault?" he shouted. "I just used a growth spell and put in the equipment. What about you, Neah? Where did you get that ball?"

"I swiped some akuma parts from the Earl's laboratory," stated the younger Walker. He picked up a fire poker and used it to block another swing from the cord. Neah ran closer to where Mana stood.

"AKUMA PARTS?" bellowed Cross. His brow furrowed as he glared at Neah. "WE DON'T EVEN KNOW EXACTLY WHAT AKUMA ARE MADE OF YET! WHY THE HELL DID YOU THINK USING AKUMA PARTS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

The door on the other side of the room opened and the akuma kid poked his head out of it. "What's going on?" he questioned while rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Hey kid, calm the Thing on the table down," ordered Neah while he tried to untangle the fire poker from the cord. "It's made of the same stuff as you, so you should have some idea of how to stop it."

The akuma kid looked at them and then the thing on the table. He proceeded to slam the door and lock it.

"Come back!" begged Mana, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry my brother is a rude prick-"

"Hey!"

"-but we need your help!" cried out Mana.

The door didn't open. Cross was pretty sure he heard the kid laughing on the other side of the door. He wasn't surprised at all. The Thing grew larger once again, reaching the size of the table top. Because of the extra weight the legs of the wooden table flew out from under it. Cross ducked to avoid the flying legs. Mana wasn't quite as lucky and received at hard whack on the side of his head. He stumbled to the ground. The Thing seemed to notice this sign of weakness and lashed at its longer tail at the older Walker brother.

Cross had not been expecting it, but Neah jumped in front of his older brother and took the blow. He was thrown into the closest wall, hitting it hard enough to create a large dent in the wall. Neah slid down the wall and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Neah!" cried out Mana. He ran over to his brother.

Sophia walked down the stairs but stopped before reaching the bottom. "What happened?" she inquired, surveying the scene with large blinking eyes. She moved her brown skirts out of the way of the swinging cord.

"The Thing is going crazy," explained Cross while rolling out of the way of the now free rolling Thing. "It was probably a mixture of the parts used and magic. Anyhow, it won't stop growing because it's trying to reach Mana."

"Did you try asking it to stop?" she asked. Sophia walked down the remaining stairs and moved along the perimeter of the room.

"Why would that work?" questioned Cross.

She pointed to Mana. "It responded to him poking it," she said. "Obviously it can think and respond, so maybe if you asked it nicely-"

It was the most illogical idea he'd heard, but he didn't have any other suggestions. Plus it was getting closer to Mana and Neah, gnashing its teeth quite threateningly. "Hey!" he shouted at it, feeling quite stupid the entire time. The Thing stopped rolling and faced him. "Would you just get smaller, please?"

The Thing seemed to examine him intensely before shrinking back to its original size. Cross couldn't believe his luck. He began to inch towards it slowly, holding his left hand out. When he touched the Thing it didn't snap at him. It curled the cord around its main body like a cat, allowing Cross to pick him up without biting him.

Mana stared at the Thing with his mouth agape. "It actually listened to you?" he inquired.

"So it would seem," stated Cross. He moved to the collapsed table and began examining the equipment. Thankfully the cases had protected the voice transmitter and the generator, so Cross would not be in trouble tonight.

Neah moaned and sat up next to Mana. "Did you guys get it?" he asked while rubbing his temples.

"Yes," replied Mana. He helped Neah stand up. "Cross got it to calm down by speaking to it. Apparently it can hear us."

"Really?" asked Neah.

The Thing bared its teeth at the two Walker brothers, causing them to cower back towards the wall. Sophia crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I think you should apologize," she said.

"What?" exclaimed the two brothers. Both of them wore identical expressions of shock: mouths agape, eyes wide, and eyebrows almost completely hidden under messy, wavy black bangs.

"Well, you both aggravated him," she explained. "Mana, you poked him. And you, Neah, tried to fight him off with a fire poker. That could have hurt him."

"When did we decide the Thing was a him?" asked Cross. Sophia glared at him as the Thing's cord-tail drooped. "Okay, it's a him."

"It could have hurt me," retorted Neah. "Luckily I don't go down that easily. The Thing did hurt Mana, though."

"Really, I'm fine," said Mana, waving a hand loosely. He avoided looking his brother in the eye. "Thanks for taking that hit for me."

"No problem," responded Neah. "It wasn't too bad."

"I don't think the wall agrees," muttered Cross as he admired the nice Neah-shaped indent. He'd have to use magic to fix it later. The table needed his attention first.

Sophia looked at the two brothers and pursed her lips. "Well?" she inquired.

Neah sighed and walked towards the Thing. "I'm sorry," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry, too," apologized Mana. He bowed in the Thing's direction. "I can only hope that you'll forgive me."

The Thing turned what apparently was its back side to Mana. It appeared that _he_ didn't forgive easily. Mana pouted, but seemed to relax since the Thing did not growl at him or try to bite his head off.

The front door swung open as Sanjiv stepped inside. Cross had no idea where the young Bookman had gone off to, but he didn't really care. As Sanjiv hung up his cloak he noticed the damage in the room. "What happened here?" he questioned. His face looked completely indifferent, but Cross could see something different in his eyes. It was a gleam that only appeared when the young Bookman was truly curious about something.

"We had a bit of an accident," elaborated Sophia. She looked over at the Thing. "Cross brought over his latest project, but Neah and Mana sort of provoked him. He went haywire after that."

"What exactly does this… invention do?" asked Sanjiv, walking over towards Cross and the broken table. For the third time that day he explained what the Thing did and how it worked. Sanjiv seemed to follow the conversation easily even though he wasn't a scientist, which made everything a lot easier for Cross. When he finished telling Sanjiv about the rampage, the young Bookman only had one question. "What word did you use for the growth spell?"

Cross took his pocket dictionary out of his bag and flipped to the page with the word. "Here it is: Kaizen," he said. "A Japanese word for growth."

Sanjiv raised an eyebrow and then stood up. He walked over to the desk and picked up one of his books. The young Bookman continued flipping through pages even as he walked back to the table and sat down. Finally he stopped and pushed the book in front of Cross. "You should cross reference words," remarked Sanjiv. "Some dictionaries are not as specific as others."

Cross looked down at the page and found the word and the definition. "Kaizen," he read aloud. "Continuous, never-ending improvement."

"That doesn't sound like growth to me," commented Mana as he leaned back in his chair.

"It is growth," replied Sanjiv. "It's just not necessarily the literal sense of growth. It's a philosophy of self-improvement over time."

Cross put his head down on the repaired table. This revelation was much too embarrassing for it explained just about everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes. "So the spell I cast causes _him_ to grow continuously," he stated. "And this is not just in a physical sense. It means that he can also learn new things."

"That's pretty remarkable," chirped Sophia.

"Well, shouldn't you just cancel the spell then?" questioned Neah.

Cross picked his head up. "I'd have to start all over again then," he responded. "There's a chance that the spell might cancel all spells put on him."

"I like him the way he is," declared Sophia, smiling down at the Thing. The Thing began to wag his tail like a puppy.

"So do I!" exclaimed Mana. The Thing growled at him. Mana shrunk back but didn't remove his support.

The door to the next room opened a crack so that they could just make out the akuma kid's face in the darkness behind. "I vote that we should keep him," he remarked. "He's the only sensible thing around here." With that said, the kid slammed the door once again.

"You might be right about that," mumbled Cross as he looked over the occupants of the house. He turned his gaze to Sanjiv, although he was pretty certain the young Bookman wouldn't say anything.

Today, however, Sanjiv surprised him. "I'm interested in where this experiment will go," admitted the young Bookman. "Mixing Noah technology with ordinary science and magic… it's unprecedented."

Neah didn't look at anyone else in the room, choosing to look out the window at the cold, damp streets of Rome. Cross knew it was all up to him as everyone- even the Thing- looked up, waiting for him to speak. He ran a hand through his hair, even though he had already made up his mind.

"I'd hate to start all over again, so I'll keep working on this model," decided Cross. He finished packing everything away. "I'll start another one in case this one doesn't work out."

"Alright," stated Neah. He frowned at the Thing, a dark shadow falling across his face. "But if _he_ ever tries to swing at me again, then I'll dismember him personally."

Cross felt the Thing burrow into his hand in a manner that reminded him of a frightened animal. He couldn't blame him, for he was just a little golden ball up against a big, scary Noah. Perhaps he would give the Thing some horns just so he'd have a fighting chance.

**Okay, we have more on our favorite golem in this chapter. I want to give a brief explanation about the whole creation of the telephone thing since I found the whole story fascinating while researching. Anyhow, we were all taught in school that Alexander Graham Bell created the telephone, which is kind of true. He just filed for and received the patent first. An Italian-American scientist by the name of Antonio Meucci is recorded as the first person to invent the telephone. He, however, made an error when filing the patent, so Bell got it instead. Meucci's telephone was created in his home on Staten Island in 1854, just in time for the current timeline of the story. :D Please review!**


	19. Chapter 19: Gradual

**Happy belated birthday to our dear General Cross! Break out the wine everybody! Maybe he'll come back into the manga! Hopefully next week I'll actually manage to update on Thursday! XD Thanks to ilikedan, WillowC1, and Kuraun Kuraun for reviewing!**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: Nope. I'm definitely not Katsura Hoshino.**

**Chapter Nineteen: Gradual**

"_He shall be justified in everlasting memory_

_And shall not fear evil reports_."

Traditional Latin Requiem Mass

He didn't know why he was doing this. Every aspect of this whole situation was against the years of strict training he'd undergone, but when Neah had asked him to teach Mana and Sophia how to fight so they could at least defend themselves he had said yes. That was how Sanjiv found himself in the countryside outside of the city of Rome with three pupils and a spectator- the akuma- in tow.

Considering everything Neah and the others would have going against them once either the Black Order or the Millennium Earl found out what they were up to self defense lessons did seem like a good idea. Only about a week ago the tiny golden communication device, or 'the Thing' as Cross and Neah had taken to calling it- had almost eaten Mana. Neah hadn't fared to well in that fight either, which may have been why he tagged along. Sanjiv only wished that the Noah of Destruction had asked someone else to teach this class- if it could even be called a class. He wasn't too sure how well this would go. If only Cross were not so busy at the Order at the moment…

They finally stopped in the middle of an empty field. The akuma child sat down under the only tree in the area about ten meters from where they stood. It was far enough away that the kid would feel some independence but close enough that he'd still be under Sophia's control if he were to try anything funny. Sanjiv set his bag down and turned to look at his 'students.' Mana was fiddling with his tan trench coat and looking up at the clear spring sky. Sophia was taking in the Italian countryside with wide grey eyes while fidgeting with the pants she wore. The pants along with the shirt, coat, socks, and boats were an old set that had belonged to Cross in his younger years. The young Bookman supposed it must feel odd to her to be wearing boy's clothing. Neah was the only one focused on him. The young Bookman cleared his throat.

"So…" he began, looking his three pupils over, "Have any of you had any kind of defense training before?"

Mana scratched to back of his head and began to laugh. "Nope!"

Sophia only blinked at him like some sort of lost puppy dog. Neah began drawing pictures in the dirt with his foot while his ears turned red in embarrassment.

It was going to be a very long day.

Sanjiv closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. It would do no good becoming… frustrated. A Bookman was not supposed to be frustrated for a Bookman did not feel. He was only an observer of the big picture. This class, if that is what it was called, was only a training exercise for him. It didn't matter that he happened to have a Noah, an ex-Noah, and a rogue exorcist as sparring partners. He wouldn't be leaving a footprint on history if he happened to _teach_ them anything.

"I suppose we'll start from the beginning then," he announced. Sanjiv paced in front of his three pupils until he stopped in front of Mana.

The juggler looked at him in complete silence. "What am I supposed to do?" he finally asked.

"You're our first volunteer," replied Sanjiv. He saw Neah and Sophia both inch away from the unfortunate elder Walker. "Now I'm going to throw a punch at you, and you're going to block it. Got it?"

"Okay, Professor Sanjiv," chirped Mana mockingly. He planted his feet firmly in preparation. "I'm-"

His punch connected with Mana's stomach, causing the juggler to lose his breath and stumble backwards. Sophia threw both her hands over her mouth before running over to help him. Neah started walking towards him, glaring all the way. "What the hell was that for?!" he spat. "He wasn't ready!"

"In a real fight there won't be time to prepare," Sanjiv answered blankly. "You have to assume that your enemy can strike at any moment. This isn't like the wrestling matches they hold in London, you know. Keep thinking that and you won't stand a chance against your family."

Mana leaned against Sophia as he returned to his feet. "I'm alright!" he called out. He swept his bangs out of his reddened face. "You pack quite a punch, Sanjiv."

The young Bookman had to admit that he was impressed. First off, the juggler had only been down on the ground for two minutes. He was a lot more resilient than he looked. Mana Walker was also much stronger than he expected. His punch hadn't met skin and bones, rather he'd hit defined muscles. Of course, it was the logical outcome since the boy had made a living juggling and tumbling for the past eight years. "Ready to try again?" he inquired.

Mana didn't say anything this time, choosing to focus on his opponent. Apparently he was a quick learner, too. It was one of the several small similarities he'd noticed between Mana and his younger brother. This time when he threw the punch, the juggler was reader to receive it in the palm of his hand.

While Mana continued blocking this hand, Sanjiv addressed Sophia and Neah. "Now, this kind of a block works if you're of equal strength or stronger than your opponent. I would not recommend it when fighting a stronger opponent. You'd probably injure your arm and get hit."

"What do we do then?" questioned Sophia. She stared intently at him.

Sanjiv turned his eyes back to Mana. There was something about her grey eyes that always made him feel very… self-conscious. He wished that she'd stop doing that. "In that case you'd want to use a different defensive strategy," he responded. He threw his other fist at Mana. The older Walker brother noticed this and ducked below the incoming fist. "Dodging is often a good choice."

"Really?" inquired Mana. He smiled at the young Bookman. "You should have said so earlier. I'm the king of dodging! They called me the Artful Dodger in one troupe, although I didn't steal anything from them…"

The young Bookman threw another punch at Mana, mostly to stop the juggler's rambling. He was not surprised when Mana threw himself backwards into a walkover. Sanjiv had seen Mana do more complex tricks than that when he'd run into the juggler in Venice.

Sophia was more impressed and gasped, her eyes widening in awe. "That was marvelous!" she exclaimed. "How'd you learn to do that?"

"Practice," said Mana with a wink. "It's what I do for a living sometimes. Or course, I wouldn't have started on this career path if it wasn't for a certain Git."

"He knows how to do these kinds of things, too?" asked Sophia. She looked at him skeptically. "Why did he become a magician then? Acrobatics seem like their more fun."

"Oh, believe me, he's a much better magician than an acrobat," scoffed Mana. He did a front somersault and stood up right in front of Sophia. "Acrobatics isn't quite his style. You should see him perform sometime if he ever gets out of the Black Order. He's not exactly your traditional circus magician, but that makes his show even more fascinating. I've seen hundreds of magicians, but none had the same command over the stage as the silent Magician Cross."

Mana and Sophia continued to chatter, so Sanjiv turned his attention to Neah. The younger Walker looked completely bored compared to the other two, despite the fact that he, just like Sophia, had never seen his brother do acrobatics. He walked over to Neah, and the young Noah didn't notice him until he was about half a meter away. "I thought you were still working with Mana!" he protested, stumbling backwards in surprise.

"He's busy, if you can't tell," Sanjiv replied. He took a swing at Neah, which the boy blocked. From the force of the block, the young Bookman concluded that in his human form Neah was not as strong as his older brother. "So it's your turn. You have a lot to work on, Neah Walker."

"What do you mean?" inquired Neah.

"You're going against the Clan of Noah," stated Sanjiv. "All of them are natural fighters with thousands of years of knowledge. You are only in your first incarnation, so you have a lot of catching up to do."

He left Neah to ponder that thought and called the other two to attention. If he was going to have three sparring partners, he might as well make them three good sparring partners. Sanjiv was not going to waste his time during this bordering-on-helpful session. "Mana, how about you teach Sophia some effective ways to dodge," he suggested. The juggler nodded and did a chain of cartwheels to a spot about five meters away. "Neah, we're going to continue working on blocking."

oOo

At the end of the day, Cross wished that he had taken a sick day. If he could go back in time, then he would have taken Sanjiv up on the offer two days ago to teach Mana and Sophia how to properly defend themselves. But he had wanted to get more work done on the Thing, so he walked right into this disaster. It all started when he arrived in the Science Department. He quickly found out that he would not be getting much work done today, for Raphael had called a staff meeting. Everyone was gathered in the main laboratory listening to Dr. de Orta, who was standing on a wooden crate. Cross wondered why the others didn't mention that the box was labeled 'Fireworks', but then again even scientists liked to live on the wild side at some point. He turned his attention to Dr. de Orta.

"In recent months there was an investigation on a factory explosion in northern France," stated the head scientist. Cross thought back to what Neah had told him three months ago and quietly gulped. Apparently the Order was much more observant than he'd hoped. "We just received confirmation this morning from European Headquarters that the explosion was related to the presence of akuma stored there by the factory owner. He has been arrested, but the new Chief of Central Headquarters, Malcolm C. Leverrier, would like the general staff to undergo some basic defensive training."

Several of the older scientists began to grumble and mutter among themselves. One of the younger ones, a bloke Cross recognized from the mechanical engineering section, spoke out hesitantly. "I don't see how this will help," he said, timidly tucking a strand of blonde hair behind his right ear. "I mean, even if we know how to defend ourselves, we still can't protect ourselves from an akuma."

"That's not the point!" hissed Mr. Meucci. He looked at his younger compatriot in scorn. "They want us to be able to defend ourselves against traditore, like the man working for the Earl."

The young blonde scientist looked down at the ground, scuffing his shoes so that he'd have something to pay attention to other than Antonio Meucci's glares. Dr. de Orta gave them an exasperated look. "Please do calm down and pay attention!" he sighed. "Yes, our concern is about the Earl's human agents, but we're working on ways to develop more portable talismans to combat akuma. I have a list here with your groups that I'll be posting up on the main bulletin board. Please find your group and then head down to the training rooms. Your instructor will be waiting for you there."

Cross waited while the entire Science Department shuffled over to the bulletin board. He didn't want to be caught in that mess of complaining middle-aged men. The young blonde scientist also stayed back to wait for the older scientists to search the list for their names. Both young men shot glances at each other out of the corner of their eyes, but neither of them walked over to the other to talk. Finally the moment passed and they went up to examine the list. Cross found his name under Group Four that would be meeting in Exorcist Training Room A on the twelfth floor.

He began making his way up to the twelfth floor. The blonde man headed in the same direction. It occurred to him that the man might be in his training group, so he decided to introduce himself just to get it over with. "I'm Cross," he said to the man.

"Oh... sorry?" replied the blonde man. He slowed his pace so that he wasn't so close behind.

It was then that Cross realized that the blonde man was a social nitwit. "I don't mean I'm angry," he remarked. "I mean that my name is Cross."

"Oh!" exclaimed the blonde man. "That's a funny name. I'm Gregory Miller. Sorry I've been following you all this way. I just arrived at Central Headquarters last month after working at the North American Branch- very nice people there. They threw me a going away party-"

"It's fine," Cross responded, cutting him off before Gregory could continue blabbering about everything in existence. He almost preferred the awkwardly silent Gregory from earlier. Luckily, they reached the training room before they could continue any sort of conversation.

That's when Cross decided he must be one of the most unfortunate scientists in the entire department. The instructor for Group Four was none other than Indivar Khanna. Cross had been successful in avoiding the exorcist for the past month, and now his perfect streak was ruined because of a stupid self-defense lecture. Khanna glared at him as he entered the room. "Is everyone here yet?" he asked, impatience hardly concealed in his gruff voice.

The other scientists in his group looked very intimidated. Cross couldn't blame them, for the groups of fifteen scientists were all relatively young and weak-looking compared to the thirty-five year old exorcist. He couldn't help but think that Dr. de Orta or some other older member of Headquarters had assigned all of them to this group on purpose.

Khanna appeared even more agitated when nobody chose to respond. "Well, then everyone stand up," he ordered with a flick of his wrist. "I'm not giving some stupid lecture about how to defend yourselves. The only way to learn this is through experience. Now everyone pair off! The odd one out will have to work with me."

As quickly as possible Cross and Gregory agreed to be partners. He'd take the awkward rambler over Khanna any day. Some twenty year old man straight out of Oxford ended up with the Indian exorcist. The scientist was already sweating through his lab coat and looked ready to faint, although they had yet to actually do anything. Khanna rolled his dark eyes, obviously not pleased with his 'volunteer.' Cross thought he saw the exorcist look at him out of the corner of his eye, but he chose to ignore him. He knew _exactly_ what Khanna would do if he became his volunteer. First, the exorcist would probably mop the floor with him- he wasn't weak, but he still lacked any discipline- and then proceed to ask him about what happened in Liverpool. It was obvious from the glint of Khanna's eyes that he _knew_ who Cross had met up there and that meeting a member of the Bookman Clan in a cafe in Sicily had not been a coincident as Cross had insisted. He was in big trouble.

Fortunately, Khanna decided to let him go this time and turned his attention to the trembling, sweaty scientist in front of him. "Everyone pay attention!" he barked, causing everyone else in the room to jump. "You all know valuable information about the Black Order, so I don't want any of you messing up when you're attacked."

"When we're attacked?" interrupted a young Chinese man. "We don't even know if these people know who we are."

"Shut up!" snapped Khanna. "In case you've forgotten, Dr. Zhang, we're fighting a war. At some point, you _will_ be attacked, even if it's not for another twenty years. Now, we're going to begin with someone attacking you from behind."

It went exactly as Cross expected. While Khanna explained how to throw an attacker off by rotating the arm closest to them, the Oxford scientist passed out. The Indian exorcist's eyes twitched, but he didn't say anything more. Cross and Gregory dragged the man off to the side while Khanna worked on his next victim, Dr. Zhang. Dr. Zhang did a bit better than the last guy. He actually managed to master the behind the back moves. However, when they moved on to a frontal assault Dr. Zhang quickly fell with a bloody nose due to a well-placed punch from his partner. Khanna grumbled, but he stepped in to replace Dr. Zhang only for his partner to fall down with a black eye a minute later.

Gregory wasn't doing too well either. Cross found it easy to smack away the blonde scientist's hesitant uppercuts and to dodge any headlock Gregory attempted. By the time there were only seven scientists left standing, Gregory looked ready to collapse in a crumpled heap. It was a bit discouraging for Cross to see his coworkers like this. He began to worry that should he stay in the Science Department for the rest of his life he'd eventually end up like them: scrawny, lazy, and unfit. That would not be acceptable.

Khanna seemed to be fine despite having taken down at least half of the group. The exorcist hadn't even broken a sweat yet. In fact, Cross would say that Khanna looked bored. He stood there with his hands in his silver-trimmed coat, waiting for a signal that he could continue his mutiny of a self-defense class. After two more scientists fell down completely exhausted, Khanna walked over to a table on the other side of the room. "You guys can't even fight hand-to-hand combat," he grumbled. "Don't ask me why the Order wants to arm you. You're all more likely to hurt yourselves."

"Arm us?" gulped Gregory. He fumbled while straightening his necktie.

Khanna handed him a rather large knife. "This wouldn't be a problem if you lot never left Headquarters," he replied. The exorcist handed Cross a smaller regulation-sized dagger. It appeared as if he knew the blonde scientist needed all the help he could get, even though Gregory was more likely to hurt himself with a bigger knife. "Until they decide to keep all of you locked up here upon joining the Order, you need to carry some sort of defensive weapon. Do not use it unless directly attacked. We're not going to intervene with the authorities if you accidentally hurt someone."

Cross almost felt like snorting, but he refrained himself. He could picture the entire group sitting in a jail cell and seeing Khanna pass by like he didn't know them. Then the exorcist would double back, drag him out of the cell, question him about everything he knew, and throw him back in there to rot. Two more resounding thuds brought Cross out of his reverie. Now there were only three scientists left standing: an Australian named Henry Galloway, Gregory, and himself. This was not looking good.

"I didn't even give any of you a pistol yet," huffed Khanna. He turned to face Henry Galloway. The brown-haired twenty-five year old scientist began to quake in his well-polished leather shoes. Cross saw the chain of Henry's pocket watch knocked against the buttons on his lab coat as the Indian exorcist walked toward him. As soon as Khanna place a hand on the hilt of his own dagger the Australian scientist fainted.

"Shit," he muttered as Khanna turned to face him and Gregory.

"Do either of you know how to handle a knife?" inquired the exorcist.

"N-No sir," stammered Gregory, "b-but I'm quite t-t-talented with a saw and a h-h-h-hammer. Ever s-since I was a little b-b-b-boy-"

"Stop it with the stuttering," stated Khanna. He placed a tan hand on his forehead. "It's giving me a headache."

"Sorry, sir," apologized Gregory, averting his eyes to the floor.

"I might have been a magician, but I didn't specialize in knife-throwing parlor tricks," responded Cross.

"I thought you were a scientist," quipped Gregory. He looked at Cross with a look of astonishment as if he were seeing something extremely foreign.

"Shut up!" snapped Khanna. Cross was almost glad that the exorcist had disturbed Gregory's latest train of thought. "It looks like you'll have to be our volunteer, Mr. Miller. Would you step forward?"

The blonde scientist's eyes widened, but he began to walk forward. After the third step he began wobbling on his feet. "On second thought," he said, his voice sounding very distant and somewhat slurred, "I think you'll have to take this one, Cross."

When Gregory hit the floor, Cross decided he was never speaking to the blonde scientist ever again. Now it was only him and Khanna. He was pretty certain he saw the Indian exorcist smirk, making him think Khanna had planned this all along. If only Mother were at Headquarters right now... Then again, considering she hadn't been too keen on Sanjiv either, she might gang up on him as well. Cross looked at the other scientists on the floor behind him. Several of them were still conscious, so at least he'd be able to get off on the Liverpool incident for now. Khanna would never bring up one of his blackmail points in front of other people. He worked like a water snake, slithering through the muddy waters of a jungle river and then surfacing when nobody else was paying attention. The presence of the other scientists, however, was not going to keep him from getting his ass kicked.

"It's a bit unfortunate," said Khanna as he pulled his dagger out of its sheath. "I was hoping to work with somebody who had a bit more experience, and I got stuck with you and the rest of this lot. Hopefully you know at least how to hold a dagger."

Cross reluctantly pulled the blade out of its sheath. To be honest, he had not idea what to do with it, but if he wanted to get out of this without a long trip to the infirmary he would have to humor the exorcist. "I think I can handle it," he replied coolly.

Without saying a word Khanna charged at him, causing Cross to unintentionally step to the side to avoid him. He really didn't want to fight the exorcist, so he would attempt to avoid the the exorcist at all costs. Any sensible person would think Khanna was mad running at him with a dagger, and the general societal protocol was to avoid madmen.

Khanna didn't run too far past him. He only had to pivot to face Cross and with this motion the exorcist deftly disarmed him. Before he knew it he was flat on his face with both arms pinned behind his back. "That was pathetic," growled Khanna. The exorcist let go of him. "Never let go of your weapon that easily! Now get up and try again."

oOo

Neah really wondered when Sanjiv would actually teach them how to fight. For the past two days they'd only worked on blocking and dodging, but they still had yet to learn anything about offense. Of course, Mana was enjoying the dodging bit. No matter what the young Bookman threw at his older brother, he would flip over it or roll away like some sort of monkey. Mana was even teaching Sophia some of his tricks since he was so good at it, and she seemed desperate to learn something new and helpful. Neah would have been impressed if he wasn't so jealous of his show-off of a brother.

He knew that his brother had made a living as a circus performer for the past eight years, so of course he would be more nimble than the rest of them. It was just frustrating after being, well, pretty much the best at everything in their family during Mana's absence. True, he hadn't had much competition. His family had been more concerned with monetary, social, and military success. That left Neah to be the smart one, the strong one, the talented one. Perhaps he was too used to Road and her annoying presence praising everything he did. The past couple days had really made him realize just how _slow_ he was.

Sanjiv's words still cut him to the core. He hadn't thought about the rest of the Clan having an advantage due to the Noah memory. It was highly probable that at least one of their past incarnations had been an expert at combat. Neah, though, was the first of his kind. The only memories he had were his memories, and no one had ever taught him how to fight before. If he had stuck around his family more, then he'd probably be learning how to fence right now or maybe that new French fighting style, La canne. Neah had no intention of returning 'home' for a long period of time, so he'd just have to learn on his own. That meant he would have to put up with being embarrassed until he actually obtained some skills besides occasional brute strength.

It didn't mean that he'd play along with all their tricks, though. He honestly didn't see the point of them sitting in the middle of the field with their eyes closed and not talking. Sanjiv called it 'meditating', but considering the faces Mana was making while trying to concentrate, Neah felt it was best that he didn't participate. He sat down under the tree near the akuma kid. The kid looked at Sanjiv, Mana, and Sophia and scoffed. "What are they doing?" he snorted.

"Meditating," replied Neah. He watched his brother again wrinkle his nose, looking like he was trying to stop himself from sneezing.

"That's dumb," commented the kid. "How's sitting there doing nothing going to help them fight the Earl and the Clan of Noah?"

"I guess it helps them focus," responded Neah. He tried his best to sound as convincing as possible.

"Focus doesn't defeat armies of akuma," muttered the akuma kid. He looked down at the ground. "You guys are screwed."

That last bit raised some ire in Neah. He didn't need the kid telling him how impossible it all seemed. Neah had thought about those dark fears long enough himself. He'd considered everything that was at stake, he'd chosen his allies carefully, and he meant to see this through to the end no matter how bitter it might be. The kid just didn't understand what this war was really about. He didn't understand that human beings are truly strong. "Not as much as you'd like to think," said Neah. He cracked a smile at the kid. "We've already destroyed a whole factory of akuma, and we stopped you from running off. Don't count us out just yet. The only direction we can go right now is up, and that's the last thing my family is expecting."

Sanjiv finally stood up in the middle of the field, just in time to avoid Mana's rather explosive sounding sneeze. The young Bookman stared at Neah's older brother who offered Sanjiv a sheepish smile. Sophia gave Mana a handkerchief and then helped him stand up. Sanjiv turned to Neah and yelled, "We're moving on. It's up to you whether to join in or not."

Neah pushed himself up to a standing position and jogged over to where Sophia and his brother stood. The akuma kid leaned up against the trunk of the tree and began playing lazily with the dirt. There was something odd in the kid's eyes. He could almost swear that for a moment the akuma looked sad that Neah was leaving him alone.

oOo

Cross hoped that Dr. de Orta would come down to the training room soon so that they could stop this whole charade. It had been at least half an hour since Khanna started sparring with him, and he was starting to feel bruises forming. The other scientists just watched while the exorcist threw him around the room. He'd tried to take it politely at the start, but after about ten minutes he and Khana both were shouting insults at each other. Cross couldn't help but think that they must look very silly at the moment: a thirty-five year old man arguing with a seventeen year old.

Khanna seemed to grow more frustrated with each passing minute. It reminded Cross vaguely of the time they'd searched the animal cages in Sicily. Back then, however, Khanna had looked composed and cool. Today the exorcist looked about ready to blow his top. His frustration probably had nothing to do with his skills personally. The exorcist was probably just taking out his feelings of what a waste of time this training was on the best opponent he could find in the room. That had unfortunately been Cross. He wondered if Khanna would knock it off if he gave in and fell over.

The ferocious glare the exorcist gave him at that moment made him doubt it. "You're terrible at this," stated Khanna. He pushed a single loose strand of hair out of his face. Cross noted that the exorcist wasn't even breathing heavily. It made him wonder exactly what exorcists were made of. "Even after forty-five minutes you still can't hold onto that dagger. You would have been long dead if this were a real fight."

"Well it's not," snapped Cross. He pulled it back again with a now broken hair-tie. "I don't go out on the town like everyone else, so I still don't see the point of this all."

Khanna's eyes narrowed. That only confirmed to Cross that somehow the exorcist knew that the first part of that statement was not true at all. He seemed to move past this, for he once again ran at Cross. Cross managed to block the first couple swings this time without losing his dagger. After a fist to the side, though, he lost the dagger once more.

"And if an accomplice of the Earl were to break into Headquarters, what would you do then?" snarled Khanna. The exorcist tried to kick Cross' legs out from under him, but he rolled out of the way. He wasn't nearly as good as Mana, but he had been the one to teach the juggler basic tumbling in the first place. Cross had practiced some tricks in his spare time with the acrobats. It would have been a shame to lose his tumbling skills, for there was always the chance that the troupe could fold.

"Does that really matter?!" shouted Cross. "An intruder would have to go past the exorcists, the Crow, and administration before coming close to the Science Department. We'd probably be evacuated before they arrived."

Khanna picked up the pace of his attacks, causing Cross to do a variation of a front handspring he hadn't used since his time in the circus. It made his joints ache, but he landed on his feet nearby the tables. "What if a day comes when all those people are not there?" asked Khanna. "You'd be at the mercy of the Earl and his adversaries."

Cross wasn't so worried about the Earl right now. There would be time for that after this class ended. He was more preoccupied with the gleaming dagger in Khanna's hand. Even though it wasn't as threatening looking as Khanna's sword, it still seemed to have that surreal power about it just like Asha. He half expected it to burst into flame. Unlike the past forty-five minutes the exorcist did not lower the knife when charging at the disarmed Cross. He began to worry as he dodged three very close swipes. The other scientists gasped as he backed into the table. There was no way now to dodge Khanna's attacks.

Khanna didn't give up and ran at him. Cross reached back on the table and hoped that there was something there which he could use to block the attack. That's when his right hand landed on something metal, and it wasn't the hilt of a dagger. He immediately grabbed the pistol on the table and released the safety. As soon as he was sure the gun was loaded, he took aim and fired a warning shot past the exorcist's left ear. The room fell deadly silent as Khanna stopped in his tracks.

He realized that firing at the Khanna might not have been the smartest idea he'd ever had. There was a high chance that the Indian exorcist would want to kill him afterwards. Cross prepared himself for the probable explosion when he suddenly noticed a strange look in Khanna's eyes. The exorcist was… impressed.

"Who taught you how to fire a gun?" inquired Khanna, finally breaking the silence. Everyone else let out a sigh of relief.

"An old friend of mine at the circus," said Cross. He didn't lower the pistol yet, afraid that the exorcist might change his mind and become angry.

"You were able to find the gun, release the safety, and fire all in under thirty seconds," stated Khanna.

Cross could care less. He hadn't been keeping track of the time. All he wanted was to not be brutally maimed by Khanna and his dagger. "So?" he questioned.

Dr. de Orta finally made an appearance at the door. "Ah, here you all are," remarked the Head of the Science Department. "It's time for us to get back to work. Is everything alright in here? I thought I heard gunfire."

"Cross was helping me give a demonstration," replied Khanna. "I don't think that this group is ready, though, Dr. de Orta. Silva should be available for further instruction in a couple days, so I suggest you send them to him. Until then, they shouldn't venture out into the city."

"Of course," agreed Raphael de Orta. The other scientists began to protest, but Dr. de Orta held up a hand to silence them. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Khanna."

Cross began to follow the grumbling scientists out of training room. He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder, so he stopped and turned around. When he saw it was Khanna, he attempted to turn back, but the hand rooted him to the spot. "Come back tomorrow," he said. "I want to see what else you can do with a gun. It might even make up for your lack of hand-eye coordination with a dagger."

Normally, he would have spat back some sort of sarcastic comment about how Khanna couldn't dodge Mother's cane, but he held himself back. The exorcist wasn't the kind of person to give compliments lightly, so it would be best to take this quietly. "Alright," he responded without thinking.

The right corner of Khanna's mouth twitched up for a brief second as he left the training room. "Good," remarked the Indian exorcist. "That will give us lots of time to talk about Liverpool. Mother said she had the most _interesting_ guests there in December."

That was the point when Cross realized he'd agreed to be Khanna's sparring partner for an unspecified amount of time. He immediately wished he could take back everything he'd said that day. However, he could not, so once again he'd lost to Khanna and his conniving ways.

oOo

After a week, his pupils managed to master the basics of defensive moves and focusing. He now had some half-decent sparring partners. Today, he decided they were ready to move on to offensive moves. Unfortunately, they were not as good at this as dodging. "Sophia," he said, "when you make a fist, you should not tuck your thumb behind your fingers. If you were to punch someone like that, then you'd break your thumb."

"Oh!" she replied. Immediately she fixed her fist. "Like this then?"

"Yes," he stated. Sanjiv moved on to the two Walker brothers who were now wrestling on the ground. Mana had 'accidentally' hit Neah in the stomach, causing his younger brother to attack him in retaliation. The young Bookman cleared his throat to catch their attention. "Are you two done yet?"

"Yes," they responded in unison. They turned to glare at each other. Sanjiv thought they looked more like little kids than teenage boys considering the dirt marks, scrapes, and bruises the brothers now sported.

"Well," began Sanjiv. He held up a hand to block a surprise attack from Sophia. She was rather strong for a girl, although her attacks had become weaker throughout the morning. The young Bookman was still trying to figure out why, but he was a bit too preoccupied with everything else to really think about it. "I think we'll change partners, then. I'll work with Mana for right now. Neah, you work with Sophia."

Sanjiv and Mana walked over to a spot closer to the tree where the akuma kid sat. The kid wasn't sulking today, which was a first. Perhaps he was finally accustomed to waking up in the early hours of the morning and watching them practice fighting. Then again, he could just be enjoying the slight violence.

It appeared that Mana didn't have the same aptitude for offense as he did for defense. The juggler aimed multiple swings at him that missed Sanjiv entirely. "Focus on me, Mana," commented Sanjiv. This seemed to slightly frustrate the juggler.

"I am!" he exclaimed. Several more wild swings missed the young Bookman. "I am totally focused on you."

"Then why aren't your hits coming even close?" asked Sanjiv. "If this were a real fight-"

That's when he saw the fright in Mana Walker's eyes. He knew then, that Mana didn't want to be in a real fight. In fact, the juggler was probably missing him on purpose. Mana was a defender, not a warrior.

Later on, Sanjiv wished that he hadn't been distracted by this revelation. True, it was important in uncovering just who Mana Walker was for his log, but he probably could have prevented what happened next. He didn't notice that anything was wrong until the akuma kid clutched his head. "Ow!" cried out the kid, shutting his eyes tightly. Sanjiv and Mana both stopped moving to watch the kid. When the akuma opened its eyes, they were red just like they had been back in the pub in Liverpool. The kid shook his head, though, and his eyes returned to their usual dull grey color. He pointed a finger over their heads. "Hey, look out!"

Sanjiv turned around to see Neah, no, the Fourteenth Noah. Neah's skin had turned ashy grey with black stigmata spread out on his forehead in a perfect line, looking a bit like a bizarre crown. From the look of things, Sophia had just kicked him from behind and apologized profusely. However, in the heat of the mock battle, she must have activated her Innocence. Sanjiv could see the feint glowing of the green crystal cross through her customary black choker. Neah Walker must have transformed in response to the shock from the kick and the Innocence. Sanjiv really should not have paired a Noah against an exorcist.

Neah grabbed her closest arm and whipped her around, sending her sailing about four meters away from him. She cried out as she hit the ground hard. This only seemed to agitate Neah even more. Mana was frozen in shock. The older Walker had seen his brother transform briefly over a year ago, but he had probably never seen the strength of a Noah. Sanjiv wondered what Mana would think of the strength of a fully awakened Noah.

"Neah?" questioned Mana. The Fourteenth looked at Mana blindly but then turned his attention back to Sophia. She had pushed herself up to her knees, despite the fact that she was shaking terribly.

Like a flash of lightning Neah zoomed towards Sophia. She rolled out of the way. Apparently Mana's instruction had done some good. Sanjiv looked at Mana out of the corner of his eye, expecting the older Walker to run forward and try to smack his brother upside the head. Mana, however, didn't move.

"Aren't you going to stop him?" called out the akuma kid. "He'll probably kill her if you don't, and he's your brother."

"I don't think that that's my brother in control anymore," breathed Mana. The older Walker's knees shook as he continued watching Neah run around. Sophia dodged most of the hits, but Neah landed a good kick that sent her rolling away from him. Sanjiv saw the green light of her Innocence go out, probably from the strain of fighting a Noah. Neah stopped nearby Sanjiv's bag to catch his breath, and then picked something up. That was when Sanjiv remembered he had left his dagger in his bag.

He had taken it off earlier lest it fall out and actually hurt someone. The young Bookman now understood why Bookman never took his dagger off his belt. Someone else more nefarious could pick it up intending to kill someone.

Sanjiv didn't know why, but he ran forward. Perhaps it was because he knew that there were no documented cases of an exorcist defeating a Noah. Maybe it was because he felt responsible for helping to create this moment in history by teaching them to fight in the first place. It was definitely not because he felt some sort of connection to Neah and Sophia. Definitely not.

He met Neah a few paces away from Sophia. Sanjiv managed to block the first several swings by dodging the blade and hitting Neah's lower arm. It felt rock solid compared to his human form. Kicking Neah in the stomach only made the young Noah slide less than a meter away. Neah tried to run around him, but the young Bookman stuck out his leg to trip him.

Sanjiv didn't feel that anything was wrong until the kid screamed out, "Bloody hell!"

It truly was a bit bloody, for there was now a gash running across half his chest caused by Neah running past him with the dagger. The cut wasn't incredibly deep. His dagger had pretty much only scraped him, cutting through a couple layers of skin. Still, he was bleeding quite a lot, for the gash was rather close to his heart. A couple millimeters more, and that cut could have been deadly. Regrettably, the minor nature of the cut didn't change the fact that it stung like hell.

The Fourteenth stopped halfway between him and Sophia as if to admire his work while Sanjiv fell to his knees. At this point, the young Bookman half expected the Noah to take out his bloodlust on him. Before Neah could move again, though, a strong fist hit him squarely in the jaw. Sophia had stood up again and snuck up on Neah while he'd been focused on Sanjiv. The younger Walker seemed surprised that she'd tried something as simple and arguably weak as a punch.

"Stop it, Neah," she seethed. Sanjiv could hear a slight quiver in her voice. "Just stop it."

Sanjiv couldn't believe it when Neah's skin once again became pale. The stigmata disappeared from his forehead as the younger Walker began to blink in a disoriented fashion. "What-" he began to ask. Neah then noticed the bloody knife in his hand and Sanjiv partially collapsed on the ground. He dropped the knife as his mouth opened wide.

"You went crazy," explained the akuma. The kid seemed to have decided that he was in charge now. "Sanjiv there is pretty lucky that you didn't run him through. You tried to kill Sophia, too."

That was not the way Sanjiv would have worded it, but he had to hand it to the kid for telling the plain, bitter truth. Neah turned paler than the young Bookman had ever seen him. "Oh, God," he mumbled, taking a step back.

Sanjiv fell down on the ground now that the fight was over. This seemed to alarm both Walkers, Sophia, and even the akuma.

"Are you alright?" questioned Mana shakily. He seemed to have regained the ability to move.

"Is he dying?" asked the kid.

"It's only a cut," he said. He tried to use the sleeve of his shirt to stop the bleeding, but the blood began to soak through it as well. "Could someone fetch me my bag? I'm going to need my medical kit."

Neah ran off to get it before anyone else could move. As soon as he returned Sanjiv pulled out a hide pouch that Bookman had given him. He pulled out a piece of gauze and a bottle of disinfectant that Bookman had taught him to make when Sanjiv began his apprenticeship. Sanjiv was pretty grateful to have a medical expert as his mentor. Everyone hovered over him as he began to clean the wound.

"I'm not dying," he finally said. They all sighed in relief. Sanjiv hadn't even noticed that they'd been holding their breath. He wasn't aware of the fact that an akuma even had to breath. Normally, he would ask about something that interesting immediately, but he decided that this question could wait. "I was wearing a pretty thick shirt, so I only got scraped."

"Then why are you bleeding so much?" inquired Sophia.

He looked up at her to see her gazing at him with worry-filled eyes. He couldn't fathom why she was worried for _him_ of all people. Sanjiv had barely interacted with her until the past year. Upon looking around at the Walkers and the akuma, he saw the same look on their faces two, albeit much more concealed in the akuma's case. They were becoming _attached_ to him. That was definitely not good. The young Bookman did his best to ignore this realization for the meantime. There were more pressing matters right now.

"The skin here is very thin," he told them. "Plus it's pretty close to the center of the cardiac system. It doesn't take a deep cut to cause a lot of bleeding. Pardon me for a moment."

He turned around and took off his torn and bloody shirt. Sanjiv wished that he'd worn a button-up shirt like everyone else as soon as the cool spring air hit him. The wound, however, would need wrapped, and that couldn't be accomplished with his shirt on. He took out a clean piece of gauze, longer than the first one, and laid it over the cut to soak up the blood. Then, he began wrapping a bandage around it. In a matter of minutes he was done. Sanjiv slid on his shirt and turned around to face them again.

"You have quite a lot of scars on your back," commented Mana. Everyone else looked at him, causing the older Walker to cough in embarrassment. "What? I'm only stating the facts."

"I'm a wanderer who documents the secret war," stated Sanjiv. That was all he would say about those scars. He knew the story behind every one of them, but that was only for him to know. "Now let me see your hand, Sophia."

She seemed surprised, but she held out her right hand. As Sanjiv had expected, she, too, was bleeding where her fist had met Neah's jaw. Sophia let out a squeak of surprise.

"Why's everyone bleeding?!" exclaimed the kid. He seemed to draw back from them, maybe afraid he'd start bleeding, too.

The young Bookman took out another gauze pad and poured some disinfectant on it. "A Noah's body is pretty tough," he explained. "You can't use normal attacks when you're fighting one. Keep that in mind, Neah."

The younger Walker looked away guiltily while Sanjiv finished bandaging Sophia's hand.

"I don't understand, though," he muttered. Neah didn't raise his eyes to look at them. "I mean, I feel the effects of fighting, but I don't remember it."

"You were taken over by the Inner Noah because Sophia accidentally activated her Innocence," elaborated Sanjiv as he packed up his medical kit. Once again, Sophia began apologizing profusely. "Most members of your clan don't remember things when they're taken over by it. We'll just have to be more careful when you're fighting. Until you and Sophia get your abilities in check, you two can't spar together."

"Okay," they both mumbled.

"Anyone else want lunch?" questioned Mana. He gave a small smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "I'm starving."

"So am I," admitted Neah.

Sophia's stomach grumbled and she looked down at it in weary surprise. This caused the Walker brothers and the akuma to break out in laughter. Sanjiv felt the corner of his mouth turn up, but he quickly fixed his mouth into its usual neutral line. "I guess I am, too," she said. "I don't think I've felt this hungry since that time in Paris."

"Oh, you mean that time when I stole a chicken, a pumpkin, and six ears of corn and you were still hungry?" asked Neah with a smirk. Sophia blushed and dug the toes of her borrowed boats into the ground. Mana, however, cuffed his brother over the head. "Ouch!"

"Someday I'm making you go back there to pay that poor farmer," stated Mana. He took on a rather authoritarian expression. "Stealing is not acceptable in this family."

"Sorry," groused Neah. He rubbed his head where Mana had hit him but stopped when his older brother gave him an affectionate pat on the spot.

Sanjiv finally recalled an entry from one of Bookman's old logs. His mentor had come across an exorcist in the deserts of Mongolia. The man had finished exterminating a large herd of akuma that had been terrorizing a group of nomads. After that, he'd gone to the capital city and eaten an entire twelve course meal by himself. Bookman learned from the cook that the exorcist had a parasitic kind of Innocence that caused his nails to grow into several inch long claws. When Sanjiv had asked his mentor about this, Bookman explained that this had also been the case for every other exorcist with parasitic Innocence that he'd happened to come across.

"I hope then that one of you went shopping yesterday," replied Sanjiv. He steadied Sophia as she began to stumble. "Parasitic Innocence uses a lot of energy. Large appetites and exhaustion are normal for people like her. If she doesn't eat regularly, Sophia could become very ill."

This revelation seemed to scare the Walker brothers. Mana ran over to Sophia and pulled her onto his back, although she attempted to escape him. "Then we have no time to lose!" he exclaimed. He began to run back towards the city. "To lunch!"

Neah ran after them. "Mana!" he shouted. "Wait up!"

The akuma kid rolled his eyes, but he followed the other three with a smile on his face. Sanjiv chose to walk instead. There were many things that he needed to think about now that he had the peace of mind. The attachment issue caused him great concern, but there was one other thing that worried him more. There was no way that Bookman wouldn't notice his shirt.

**Well this was a super long chapter. I might have beaten my record for longest chapter ever… again. A lot of character development in this one since last chapter was all about our favorite Thing. XD Now we just have to see if Cross can survive Khanna's training. xP Please review!**


	20. Chapter 20: In Paradisum

**Time to get started on a new chapter! This chapter has been in the works for a while, so I'm excited to start working on it. Thanks to Guest, WillowC1, and ilikedan for reviewing. The feedback really means a lot!**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: I'm not nearly imaginative enough to think of SPOILERS! (Don't worry, there are none in this chapter.)**

**Part Twenty: In Paradisum**

"_At your coming_

_May martyrs receive you,_

_And may they lead you_

_Into the Holy City, Jerusalem_."

On one rare day when Cross actually managed to escape Khanna's training regimen, he snuck out of Headquarters with his equipment and the Thing in tow. He'd made very little progress on its function so far, mostly because of his schedule at the Order and Khanna's nagging. Today, though, the exorcist was away on a mission for the first time in a month. That meant that he could not only work on the replay device for the Thing, but he could also freely go outside. Cross had to tuck the Thing further down into his bag because it kept trying to escape. He regretted giving him stubby little legs, for now the Thing was always trying to waddle off somewhere. It was as bad as having a toddler like Barba around, and the Thing wasn't even technically living. Giving him wings would probably make the situation even worse, but Neah had said he wanted the Thing to be able to _fly_.

When he arrived at the house, though, he realized that he wouldn't be getting much work done. Even outside Cross could hear the shouting of at least two if not three people. The akuma kid was on the upper floor looking out an open window. He gave Cross a half-hearted wave and left his perch. Moments later the kid opened the door. The others were standing in the kitchen. Neah and Mana looked like they were about to lunge at each other's throats. Sophia stood on a chair not far from them yelling at the two brothers to knock it off. Sanjiv sat at the desk reading a book, not paying attention- or maybe he was in his own Bookman way- to the drama unfolding in front of him. The akuma kid sat down in an empty corner looking very bored.

"I can't believe that you forget!" hollered Mana. He ran a hand through his messy bangs. "I asked you to do one thing! Just one thing!"

"Well I'm sorry!" spat Neah. "Perhaps if somebody else could run people across the Ark- oh wait- no one else can! Can't you see I have thousands of other things to think about so why would paying the rent be at the top?!"

"But I told you five times yesterday!" bellowed Mana.

"Yesterday was two days ago for me because Road _insisted_ that I _must_ meet her in Quebec for lunch the other day!" seethed Neah. He stood on his toes to be at eye level with his brother. "I had to live a 48 hour day because of her and I have yet to sleep, so excuse me if I forget to pay the bills once!"

"Stop it you two!" Sophia shouted at them. They didn't seem to be paying her much attention, for they were too absorbed in their shouting match. "This wouldn't be a problem if you'd just trust me for once! I'm just as capable as you are to walk four blocks to the landlady's house to pay the rent! You won't let me do this because I'm a girl, is that right?! I may be little, but I have better chances then the both of you against any of the Earl's accomplices! Stop thinking that I'm weak!"

Cross set down his bag and slammed the door. The three bickering teenagers stopped to look over at him. "I could hear you all from the end of the block, you know," he said.

Sophia hopped off of the chair, her cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. "Sorry," she muttered.

Cross took the envelope that Mana held in his fist and handed it to her. "Are you sure you know the way?" he asked.

"I'm positive," she stated. Sophia opened the door and ran off to the landlady's house, her eyes alight in excitement.

He then turned to the Walker brothers. "Did you two pay the other bills, Mana?" he inquired. "I know that I told Neah about them yesterday when he snuck into my room to leave that obnoxious note."

"It wasn't obnoxious!" retorted Neah.

Mana began pushing his pointer fingers against each other, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Well… you see… between the rent and shopping for groceries…"

"Not to mention buying Sanjiv more ink since the kid spilled his last bottle…" added Neah. He also grinned at Cross.

"Sorry," apologized the kid. "How was I to see it behind that pile of sheets Sophia had me carrying?"

"Oh yeah, we had to replace those sheets, too," mumbled Neah.

"We, uh, don't have enough money for the rest of the bills," admitted Mana. He laughed nervously.

Cross groaned. Every single damn month this day would come, and they would be short on money. He had picked up the rest of the bills the last three months, but this was his limit. Neah opened his mouth to obviously ask for some money, but Cross cut him off. "I don't have any right now," he said, "and I'm not walking back through the city to make a trip to the bank. I came here to work, so why don't you two go out and do the same."

Mana began running up the stairs. "That sounds like a good idea to me," he called over his shoulder. "Do you want to come with me, Neah? Some background music might make the performance more interesting to the audience."

Neah sauntered over to the base of the stairs. "Fine," he sighed. "Can you grab my violin while you're up there?"

"No problem!" replied the older Walker.

Cross set the Thing down on the table, and he immediately tried to crawl off of it. The kid came over and caught the Thing before he hit the ground. He set the Thing on his head and began to run around the room with his arms extended like some sort of bird.

"Did you finish running the tests on him?" questioned Neah quietly.

"I was able to identify thirty kind of metal from both the bullet and the blood sample," answered Cross. "The virus is a lot trickier. So far the only known substance that can overcome it is Innocence, but I'd have to know more about what makes up Innocence to make more progress."

Neah huffed and looked at the kid. "The kid doesn't seem as violent as the last time you worked with him," said Neah. "When are you getting back to that?"

Cross hadn't thought much about that project. He'd been too busy with his work at the Order and the Thing to think much about it beyond running the tests on the samples. "Soon, I guess," he responded. He also looked at the kid running around with the Thing on his head. "I don't exactly have a curfew today, so maybe now is the time to do it."

"But Sophia isn't back yet," argued Neah, frowning slightly. "The kid might blow up this whole place if you don't have Sophia around to stop him."

"I think I have a bargaining chip," commented Cross, tilting his head towards the Thing. Neah raised both eyebrows and then smirked.

The kid noticed that they were looking at him and scowled. "What do you want?" he asked grumpily.

"I was wondering if you'd let me look at some of your controls if I let you play with the Thing," remarked Cross.

The kid looked like he was going to say no, but then he stopped to contemplate it. "How long?" he inquired.

"Well, I'm only planning on making some basic observations, so that will only take about half an hour to an hour," replied Cross. He pulled out the camera he planned to install in the Thing. "I still need to work on the recording device, so you can play with him until I'm certain that the camera works. This will probably take me the rest of the day."

The kid thought about it for a few more minutes. "Okay," he agreed.

Cross pulled out a chair for the kid to sit in. Before the kid sat down Neah turned him around to face him. "If you try anything funny-"

"Why would I do that?" questioned the kid. He let an innocent smile grace his face. "This city is crawling with Innocence and exorcists. I'd be committing suicide if I tried to escape or kill anyone."

Neah let go of the kid and went to fetch his coat. Mana ran down the stairs dressed in a ridiculously flamboyant outfit. Sanjiv raised an eyebrow as he looked at the polka-dotted waistcoat. The kid snickered while Neah became red in the face. Cross hoped that he'd never looked that stupid in any of his magician costumes. "What are you wearing?" questioned Neah.

"Well, since we're hiding from the Earl, I thought I'd try something more subtle," explained Mana.

"That is anything but subtle," stated Cross.

"It's more subtle than my own face," argued Mana. He waved his hand in front of his face. "I don't think he'd take a second look at some street clown, so I decided to give it a try. Rhian might have given Cross and me protection, but you, dear brother, are still detectable. I'm not taking any chances."

"Whatever," muttered Neah. He pushed his brother out the door. "Let's go. Cross, keep an eye out for Sophia. If she doesn't come back in the next fifteen minutes-"

"You're such a worrywart, Neah," groaned Mana as he smeared some grease paint onto his face. "I'm sure Cross knows what to do if Sophia doesn't come back soon. Now let's go. See you later, Cross. You, too, Sanjiv."

Sanjiv nodded at the door and went back to reading his book. The kid sat down on the chair and looked up at Cross. "So… what do you want me to do?" questioned the kid.

"I said that I wanted to look at your controls," replied Cross. He pulled on a pair of work gloves. "I'm not sure where they are, so it's up to you to tell me."

Cross wasn't sure if the kid would cooperate now that he had complete control. When the kid hopped off the chair he thought that their session was through. "There's a panel on my back where I think the controls are," said the kid. "However, I'm going to have to transform in order for you to be able to see it."

"Um…" began Cross. He was glad that the kid was being so cooperative, but he wasn't sure he wanted an akuma just sitting there in the living room. "Will you fit in here?"

The kid looked around the room, stroking his chin. "I think I should," responded the kid. "It might be a bit cramp, though…"

Sanjiv picked up his books and moved to a spot on the staircase. Cross looked at the kitchen counter to make sure there was nothing sharp or made of glass that could go flying if the akuma kid were to hit the counter while transforming. "Okay…" agreed Cross. He backed away as the kid first began to glow and then swell in size. Thankfully, the kid had been right and the room was not destroyed. He took up about half the room in his akuma form, successfully pushing over both the desk and the kitchen table (he would have to nail that thing into the floor the next time he got a break). Cross couldn't help but to think that the kid looked like a baby clown in his akuma form. The head like on most akuma was far too big and contained rows of sharp teeth, giving him a kind of nightmarish look. He wondered if Mana would still have the same fondness for clowns once he saw the kid like this. After searching for a few minutes he found the back panel and opened it.

He had never seen a system like this. Of course, he was only an amateur scientist who knew very little about technology and the newer field called robotics, but he was certain that the kid- at least on the inside- was a robot. The only parts inside him that resembled a human being were the pipes that carried the akuma virus, oil, and other fluids. There was no heart, no lungs, no stomach, no… guts…

"Has anyone ever done maintenance on you before?" asked Cross.

The kid thought for a moment. "The Earl did some stuff when I became a level two, but that's the last time anyone has seen the controls."

"It shows," said Cross he wiped some dust off a wobbling gear. "You're about ready to fall apart."

"Of course I am!" snapped the kid. "I'm hanging around you guys all the time. Do you know how much stress that puts on my system? I'm supposed to kill you guys!"

"And how do you know that?" inquired Cross. He really was curious for it could contain a hint about how to shut off those orders. If an akuma really was only a robot, then there would have to be some sort of off switch.

"I hear voices in my head," explained the kid. "Lots of voices. Some of them are akuma, but mostly I hear the Earl. It just repeats over and over again to destroy the humans and the Innocence. It's annoying, really. I think I could have figured out that I should destroy the stuff that can destroy me without being told to."

Cross really hated to do this, but he would have to do some maintenance on this kid. It would possibly indirectly be helping the Earl, but if he didn't do something then Neah would have to go out and get a new akuma. He took out a wrench and began tightening bolts, praying the whole time that the kid wouldn't explode in his face. "Yeah, I'm sure you would've," he mumbled as he carefully removed a stripped screw. "Can you transmit back to the Earl?"

"No," stated the kid. "At least I don't know how to. I suppose he could get into my mind with his sorcery stuff if he needed to see what I was seeing, but I'm not that closely connected to the Earl. There are loads of Level Two akuma higher ranked then I am. I'm just the bottom rung."

"Great," Cross responded sarcastically. A bottom rung akuma- even a Level Two- wouldn't be much use to either side in a fight. No wonder Neah had chosen this one as a prototype for a spy. He looked at what appeared to be a big metal box in the center. It had to be the control panel. The only question was if it was safe to open. "Hey, kid, I'm going to take the lid off of the box in here. It's not connected to any pipes, so it shouldn't release any fluids or fumes. Just don't get upset."

"Oh, go ahead," replied the kid.

Sanjiv looked at them with a raised eyebrow. "Why are you letting him do this?" questioned the young Bookman. He backed away further up the stairs as Cross began removing the screws from the metal box. "You could explode, and then you'd be dead."

"I'm bored," huffed the kid. "I can't escape because of those spells Neah had Cross put up- don't think that I didn't see you two- so I might as well do something exciting."

Cross removed the lid of the box. Inside were hundreds of tiny wires and switches. He could see circular lights glowing green next to switches that were flipped to the right and red next to switches flipped to the left. Some of the switches were moving now even without a hand pushing them. It must have been ingrained magic or perhaps some Skull deep inside the Earl's laboratory, chanting under his breath to keep the akuma alive. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that the Earl had to be a technological genius. Cross slid the cover over the switches off next. Under this were even more wires packed tightly together. Many of them were marked with symbols, magic symbols. He took out a pad of paper and began writing them down.

"So… how does it look?" asked the kid. "I've never actually seen it, so I was just wondering…"

"There are lots of wires, kid," responded Cross. "It appears that your panel is controlled by some sort of enchantment, although I can't be certain what kind. The strangest thing is that I don't see a source of power. You have oil pumping through some of these pipes, but I don't see anything inside that could ignite it to create power."

"Well that's just great," he groused. "So I'm incomplete?"

"Not necessarily," answered Cross. He finished his diagram and replaced the cover. "I'll just have to keep looking."

"Alright," said the kid. "Are you almost done? You said it wouldn't take long, and I don't know how much longer I can control myself without Sophia here."

He began screwing the lid back onto the box. "It will only take a couple more minutes," he replied. "Then you can go play with the Thing. Hold on a moment, though, because there's something that's giving off sparks. Can I take a look at it?"

"Fine," grumbled the kid. "Just be quick about it."

Cross removed a cover off of a smaller, thin rectangular box next to the big one. There was some sort of a green metallic card with odd lines engraved in it. The sparks came from a yellow wire running over the card, connecting to a longer black wire on the outside. He saw that the friction between the wire and the card was causing the sparks. Using a pair of tweezers, he bent the loose wire away from the card. He looked through his bag and found a thin rubber square that he'd been using for insulation in the Thing. Cross placed it over the card and fixed the wire back into place. "There you go," he told the kid. "The Thing is on the table."

The kid changed back into his human form and looked at the front window. "No it's not," retorted the kid. "He's over there."

Cross caught a glimpse of the Thing balancing on two legs as it tried to push the front window open enough to hop outside. Sanjiv rolled his eyes and set his book down before heading over to the window. However, he ducked down to the floor before reaching the Thing.

"What-" Cross began to ask.

"Get down," Sanjiv breathed. The kid and Cross both complied. When the Thing succeeded in getting the window to move another centimeter, though, Cross began to crawl over to the window.

Before he could grab the Thing, it pushed the damn window open and fell out. Luckily, he didn't hear the sound of metal parts falling out, so he raised his head up just enough to catch a glimpse of why Sanjiv wanted them to get down. There were three men walking down the street, all of them with the rose cross on the front. One of the men even had gold trim on his coat- an exorcist general. Cross doubted the man would be very forgiving if he saw Sanjiv in the house. If Khanna knew about him, then surely the top generals knew exactly what the young Bookman looked like. He hoped that they wouldn't notice the Thing and just keep walking.

Unfortunately, people had a tendency to notice shiny things. "What's this?" questioned the voice of an elderly man, most likely the general. Cross looked at the shadows cast on the opposing wall inside the house, right over the oven. An arm held up something round with a tail: the damn Thing. He knew he'd have to get it back now, so he'd make it quick and hope that the men forgot all about him.

"It looks like some sort of tiny machine," replied an all too familiar voice. It was his boss, Dr. de Orta. There was no way he could stand up now. If he did he would have to explain what the Thing is and why he was inside this house. He sat firmly on the ground and leaned his head up against the wall. Now he would lose all his work because of some stupid old men out for a stroll.

"Raphael, you think that everything is a toy," sighed a third voice. "It is interesting looking, though. I wonder who left it out here."

"Excuse me!" called out a child's voice. The child happened to be right next to Cross, now standing and looking out the window. Cross looked at the kid and then at Sanjiv. The young Bookman shrugged and looked up to watch the kid. "Could I have my ball back? I was playing with it in here but then it fell out the window."

"Is this a ball, young man?" inquired Dr. de Orta. "It doesn't look like a ball to me."

"I think it does," pouted the kid. He crossed his arms in front of his chest in a display of childishness. "I found it in the junk yard, so it's my ball."

"Just give it to the child, Raphael," stated the general. Cross saw a larger hand drop the Thing into the kid's hands. "Sorry about that, child. My friend here has quite a big imagination."

"That's okay," responded the kid. Cross could see his legs shaking, the akuma fluids racing through his veins. He was reaching his limit.

"Now you take care of your things, young man," chided the third voice. "May God be with you."

"And also with you!" chimed the kid with a strained smile. As soon as Cross saw the shadows leave pass from the wall, the kid shut the window and ran up the stairs. "Leave me alone for a while."

"Alright," agreed Cross. He heard the kid slam the door of his room. "Um, thanks for getting the Thing back."

"No problem," called out the kid. "Old geezers are suckers when it comes to kids. Always go for the old geezers when picking pockets. Them or the overburdened mothers."

"Right," chuckled Cross. He shook his head as he looked away from the stairs. It was really a shame that the kid was an akuma. He would have made a decent actor once he had grown up. With that ordeal over he thought back on Neah's instructions and realized it had been quite some time since he had last seen Sophia. Cross poked his head out the door and didn't see her or the generals on the street. He began pulling on his coat. "I'm going to look for Sophia."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here with the kid?" questioned Sanjiv. He picked up his books from the stairs and placed them on the overturned desk. "I could look for her if you'd like."

"I don't want to trouble you," said Cross as he buttoned his coat. "You mentioned that you had a lot of reading to do, and I don't know where she could have gone off to. The kid shouldn't be a problem, just leave him alone and he'll cool off."

"I'm not a babysitter," remarked Sanjiv as Cross walked out the door.

"I never said you were babysitting," he retorted. "I don't see how your Bookman credo could conflict with you sitting by yourself in a practically empty house. Now if I said to sit outside the kid's door, then you'd be babysitting."

Before Sanjiv could argue, Cross bounded away from the row house on the path to the landlady's place.

oOo

By the time they reached the nearest piazza he was already swimming in sweat with grease paint starting to melt off his face in colorful droplets onto his costume. He'd have to keep in mind that two layers of cotton clothing was too much for springtime in Rome. Nevertheless, there was a performance to give, for a small crowd of children had already gathered when he and Neah stopped by a statue. His younger brother grumbled and turned red in the face as he pulled out his violin. Mana was now certain that his brother was _not_ fond of young children. That was too bad. Some vestiges of the Victorian upbringing would never be lost. He'd just have to respect his brother for sticking to his inclinations.

He set down his suitcase and pulled out his juggling pins. Mana also had some silk scarves, flaming batons, multi-colored balls, and some tomatoes but he'd save those for later. Tomatoes were to be saved for later if the crowd proved to be difficult. Plus, there was a risk of hitting his brother and he wasn't sure Neah would appreciate getting hit by a tomato or a flaming baton. It could hurt him or, even worse, his violin. Neah must have gotten it after he'd run away with Cross because Mana didn't recognize the instrument. Of course, this meant that the violin was potentially very expensive for their family went to all lengths to possess only the best of everything. He wondered why Neah didn't buy a cheap wooden flute for these occasions, but he decided not to ask. Mana was pretty sure that a certain unnamed Uncle must have given the violin to his brother.

Ever since they had met Neah in Liverpool, his brother had not mentioned the words 'Uncle Adam.' Whenever he came up in conversation, Neah would always call him the Earl. It was plainly obvious that something had happened in the last year, but Mana wouldn't pry. This was a matter between two noblemen of England, and he certainly did not count himself as a nobleman. If it were that important to his brother, to his mission, then Neah would tell them eventually.

Mana began to walk on his hands, wobbling a bit, which caused some of the younger ones to giggle. Neah began to play an up-tempo jig, so he fell down- as gracefully as possible- and started to dance. The kids seemed to really enjoy this, so Mana threw in a couple of lopsided cartwheels. If there was anything he had learned about clowning from watching others in the circus, it was that clowns were far from perfect. They weren't awe-inspiring or handsome, but clowns were still his favorite part of the circus.

Perhaps it was because he was so much like them. He wasn't particularly brave, although he could perform some pretty daring acrobatics. The most handsome part about him would be his hair if he ever took the time to care for it, but he didn't because Mana wanted others to see him as flawed. No matter how hard he tried he would never be perfect because he had made a mistake eight years ago that had caused his youngest brother to disappear from the face of the planet. It was the only time he had really tried to be brave, and all that came of it was a torn apart family and a lost Rory. And when Pierrot had tried to be brave… Yes, being brave wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

He went back to dancing his jig and finished it with a deep bow. Their small audience erupted in cheers and began begging their parents for a coin to give to the funny clown. Mana set out a hat to collect the bits of spare change. When he picked up the hat they had enough to pay for this month's tab at the butcher's. He resisted laughing as his brother worked the math out in his head. Neah was clever, but he had never been good with numbers.

"Neah!" called out a voice. For a second the brothers looked around in terrified confusion. Mana was relieved to see not a Noah but Sophia.

"Don't call out my name like that!" hissed Neah. He put a hand on his forehead. "Anyone could be listening."

"Sorry," apologized Sophia, looking very interested in the tips of her shoes.

"And wear some gloves next time," he said. Neah pulled off his own and handed them to her. "I don't want the landlady thinking we're just a bunch of illiterate teenage bums."

"Alright," responded Sophia. "I still think I look like an illiterate teenage bum wearing a pair of men's gloves."

"Well, after we pay the bills then we'll buy you your own pair," commented Mana. He moved to drape an arm around her shoulders but then remembered how sweaty he was at the moment and maintained a distance. "Nobody will be able to say you're a bum then."

Neah shook his head. "What did you want to tell me?" he inquired.

"I wanted to tell you that Mr. Giuseppe has an open performance slot tonight at 21:00," she said.

"That's good," stated Neah. He walked over to his violin case. "I'll go over and work out the details with him."

"You don't have to," replied Sophia. She blushed and began wringing her hands. "I already did. We agreed on a slightly higher wage than last time, and I booked a show for next week, too. Is that okay?"

Neah blinked, astonishment very clear on his face. "Yes, that's fine..." he remarked. "So that's it then."

Mana snickered as his brother tried to wrap his head around the fact that he was no longer in control of everything in life. It was nice to see Sophia of all people telling him what to do for a change. She really was growing up. Someday he and Cross would have to take her to see the world. He bet that she would really like that. Neah and Sanjiv could come, too, for Mana was sure there were some places where even he and Cross would get lost.

Speaking of a certain friend, Mana saw Cross make his way across the now crowded piazza. "There you are," he sighed upon seeing Sophia. "It has been almost an hour. Were you here the whole time?"

"I just came here recently," she explained. "I was booking a show for tonight at La Forella. Were you worried?"

"I- uh-"

"How's it going with the kid?" interrupted Neah. Mana shook his head. His brother had no tact.

"Fine," responded Cross, his face slowly returning to a normal shade. "Just made some observations and minor adjustments. He was running out of willpower in the end, so he ran upstairs with the Thing. Since that was done I thought I had better start looking for Sophia since it had been such a long time. Sanjiv is still in the house reading, so the kid should be fine."

"I'm right here actually," said the young Bookman. They all turned to see him standing by the statue.

Neah's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. "What are you doing here?" he questioned. "The akuma-"

"Is on the edge of the crowd over there," remarked Sanjiv. He pointed the kid out, standing in the shade as far away from people as possible. The kid looked around with wide eyes at the sunny sky, the vendors, the people milling about, and then them. Mana wondered if this was the point where they should start screaming that a killing machine was on the loose. "I don't know what you did, Cross, but it seems to be working. He mentioned something about his head feeling really clear all of a sudden, and then he walked outside. I think he wants to talk to you."

Both Cross and his brother walked over to the kid. Sophia followed them a bit timidly but with purpose. Mana really wanted to stay close to his suitcase and as far away from potential explosive, fiery death, but he realized he'd have to follow them as well. Sanjiv even helped him pick up his juggling items and pack them away. They crossed the square in time to hear Neah finish scolding the kid.

"- realize what you could have done?" his brother seethed. He pointed at the crowd behind them. "These people have nothing to deal with whether you're angry at Cross or me. If you even think about trying to kill one of those people, then I will order you to self-destruct. Got that?"

The kid glowered at the ground in perfect juxtaposition of the cowering Thing in his messy brown hair. "I wasn't angry," he groused. "I was just..."

"Just what?" asked Cross.

"Feeling different?" responded the kid, seeming very unsure.

Sanjiv raised an eyebrow in intrigue. "What do you mean by different?"

The kid screwed up his face in concentration. "Like my mind is really clear for once," he finally said. "I normally can hear bits of conversations from other akuma nearby and the orders they're given by the Earl, but after you put out that spark I heard nothing."

"Well, that seems like a good thing," commented Sophia. She looked at the others. "That is a good thing, right?"

"It's completely unheard of," mumbled Neah. "All akuma are connected to a network that links them directly to the Earl. For him to be able to ignore these messages... it should be impossible."

Mana did have one question. "I thought you were at your limit earlier," he stated. "Shouldn't you be inside?"

"I'm feeling okay right now," replied the kid. "I even passed a group of nuns. They didn't notice a thing."

"The liner must have increased his resistance to the basic akuma programming," muttered Cross. He reached down and took the kid's pulse. "He still has a bit of a reaction to the presence of human beings and it appears to increase with time. However, I'd say-"

"He's the first successful case of a conversion," finished Sanjiv. Mana felt that he could see the tiniest gleam of excitement in the young Bookman's eyes. He supposed that something unheard of like a converted akuma would be a big development in the records of the war. This was probably about as exciting as recording history could get.

"Quite possibly," agreed Cross. "I don't want to push him too hard right now, but I'll have to run some more tests. Perhaps we could take him somewhere less crowded next time."

"How about the show tonight?" inquired Sophia. "The audiences are never too large. Plus, Neah and I will both be there to stop him should anything go wrong."

"I don't know..." trailed Cross.

"It sounds good to me," said Neah. He pushed to kid towards Cross. "For now, take him back to the house. Leave him alone for a while so that he's ready by 21:00 tonight. I'll ask for Mr. Giuseppe to reserve a table for you, the kid, and Mana. Do you need to go back before then Sanjiv?"

"Bookman is away," he responded. "He left about a week ago and said not to expect him until next Tuesday."

"Good, then I expect you'll want to come along," stated Neah. He turned to walk back to the statue. "I expect to see you all then."

"Right," replied Cross, rolling his eyes at the back of Neah's head. "Let's go, kid."

"My name's not 'kid'," mumbled the akuma, but he let Cross lead him away. Sophia waved at Neah's retreating back and then at him before running off to follow Cross with Sanjiv.

Mana wasn't sure how he felt about this. For starters, he didn't agree to sit in a dingy little pub at a tiny cramped table with an akuma. His brother probably wouldn't have given him or anyone else a choice, though. He would just have to go along with this reckless experiment and hope for the best. Mana wondered if he should go to a church and have confession before going to the pub. He doubted that a priest would listen to him even if he were an ex-Noah. With that thought in mind he walked back to the statue to prepare for another performance.

oOo

He was glad that they at least didn't have to dress up to go to the show. Cross was not sure that he could have convinced the kid to wear a tie let alone a nice shirt. Mana would probably have soaked his clothes in a nervous sweat, which would have been a shame considering Cross would then be cajoled into buying him a new one. Sanjiv looked stranger than all of them with the hood of his cloak covering most of his face. He knew that it was to keep people from noticing his presence, but Cross felt that a cloaked stranger would still elicit questions.

The Thing fell asleep in his bag- sleeping… that was a new one- before they left the house, so Cross closed the bag and sealed it with a piece of rope. He didn't need the Thing wandering off or, better yet, trying to steal a drink. When they arrived, Mr. Giuseppe, an old balding man smelling strongly of cigars and whiskey, showed them to a table in the back. The place was surprisingly pleasant and lacked the sloppy drunks of other dingy establishments. Then again, it was too early for sloppy drunks. He was certain they'd see one by the end of the night.

Sophia walked out in the same emerald evening gown that she wore for all her performances. The audience began to clap enthusiastically, and some patron even whistled. Neah glared at that patron from his spot on the piano bench. Cross elbowed Mana in the ribs to get him to stop shaking as Sophia began to sing.

"Ouch!" he whined, giving Cross a pathetic look.

"Stop it," he said. "We don't need to attract more attention to ourselves."

Mana sighed and laid his head on the table. It was infuriating to have his friend- acquaintance… brats were only acquaintances- acting like this. Cross thought it was very much like the first few months of traveling with Mana. Perhaps he had been wrong to think that the boy had changed. He pushed that thought out of his head. Of course Mana had changed! He might be sour right now, but Cross knew the older Walker was only frightened since he was sitting catty-corner from an akuma. Anyone would be frightened. Mana, like always, just had a funny way of showing it.

The owner came up to their table and collected the menus after they all said that they weren't hungry. "Anything to drink, Signore?" questioned Mr. Giuseppe.

Now Mana seemed to be paying attention. He looked at Cross who nodded his head in consent. "I'll have a brandy," stated Mana. "Does anyone else want anything?"

"I'm fine," said Sanjiv. Cross wondered if was against the Bookman credo to drink. That was too bad for him if it was.

"I'll order a beer and a glass of water for the kid," responded Cross. "That will be all."

After the Mr. Giuseppe left, the kid looked over at Cross. "I didn't want water," he grumbled.

"Well, I don't know how alcohol will react with your system, so live with it," snapped Cross. He rubbed his temples with his hands. "I've really had enough of you and Mana complaining, so how about you tell me something else. How are you feeling?"

"I'm still fine," commented the kid. He examined the room with the utmost scrutiny. "I don't feel a thing."

The pulse reading that Cross took after that agreed with the kid's statement, so they settled into an uncomfortable silence. He began to look around the pub, too. Thankfully there was no one from the Order there, so he (hopefully) wouldn't have to worry about Khanna hearing he'd been out on the town. Mr. Giuseppe came with their drinks and left without a word. Mana happily sipped his brandy while the kid glared at his water and then went back to watching the show. Cross watched the kid examining everything with wide gray eyes. They sort of reminded Cross of Rory Walker's eyes, only they didn't have that silver light about them. That was where all similarities ended. Whereas Rory had been delicately built, the kid was very sturdy. His long oval face and broad nose, not to mention his rough disposition, screamed street rat. Maybe that was the real reason Neah kept him around. He was so different from his twin that the younger Walker couldn't help but see Rory in him.

Cross took a sip of his beer and decided to never become a philosopher.

"How do they make everything on the stage look so… sparkly? Magical?" asked the kid.

Cross pointed to some gas lights overhead. "They put colored films in front of those lights," he explained. "It gives the performance a bit of flair."

"I think it would be fine if Sophia just sang," huffed the kid. "What's the point of making things look like they have flair?"

"You really have never seen a show before, have you?" inquired Mana.

"Well, I didn't exactly have the money to see one or the talent to be a performer," sneered the kid. "Not everyone can run around in stupid costumes and pretend the world is fine just to get a couple of sticky coins. Some of us actually had to struggle to survive."

"Well there's no point being bitter about it," replied Cross. "It might be hard to believe, but Mana and I didn't start out as performers. We were just like everyone else, swiping bread so we could eat-"

"You said that you bought that bread!" exclaimed Mana in a hushed whisper, face clearly aghast.

"It doesn't matter now," retorted Cross. "The point is that some people get lucky because they take any opportunity that comes their way. Being bitter just keeps you starving in the streets."

The kid looked down at the table in a manner that almost seemed ashamed. "I guess you're right," he mumbled. "S-sorry, Mana."

Mana's mouth hung open in shock. "It's okay," replied the juggler. "You're right about me, in a way. When I was your age, I was just a rich brat."

The kid chuckled at this comment and then genuinely smiled at Mana. "What the hell happened to you, then?"

"It's a long story," elaborated Mana while leaning back in his chair. Cross pushed him back up before the chair could fall over. "If you'd like, then I could tell you it sometime. Perhaps on a rainy day."

"I'd like that," said the kid. Cross and Sanjiv looked on the two with interest as they continued babbling about nonsense things like whether the show would be better with a dancing monkey or if Mana could get a job here playing a triangle while riding a unicycle. Cross didn't think that Mana could even ride a unicycle to which the juggler replied that he probably could if he tried. By the time Neah and Sophia came out from the dressing room Mana had finished his drink and both he and the kid were shaking in a fit of giggles. Neah seemed to have difficulty determining what had caused the change in the atmosphere between his brother and the akuma. Cross wasn't sure he could explain it in words. It was just something that happened. Sophia seemed to think it was an improvement, which he supposed it was. It would definitely make things easier in the house.

After they paid their bill they all walked back together. Mana led the way, stumbling a bit as he forged the trail. Cross began to think that he shouldn't have let him buy that brandy with his extra money. The juggler did look happy, though, as opposed to the worried air that usually hung about him. If a little brandy was what they needed to keep Mana happy, then Cross wouldn't begrudge him of it. Neah followed right behind his brother ready to catch him should the older Walker fall. A small genuine smile graced his face. Sanjiv strolled behind them, grudgingly answering any and all questions the akuma kid chose to throw at him about the city of Rome. Cross and Sophia brought up the rear. Sophia had linked her arm with his, forcing him to slow his pace. He didn't really mind. It allowed him to appreciate the elegance of Rome at night and everyone's company. Cross couldn't remember ever feeling this relaxed.

That all changed in an instant, for when they rounded the corner to walk down the street where the row house under the bridge sat, there was someone waiting for them outside. He examined them all with ancient, kohl-rimmed eyes as he snuffed out his cigarette.

"Get inside," Bookman demanded quietly.

oOo

Mana was glad he hadn't gotten two glasses of brandy; otherwise he'd still be tipsy now. If he were tipsy or even drunk, well, he'd probably have imagined Bookman growing devil horns to frame his topknot. The old man gave off an air of silent fury as he locked the door and began to pace in front of them all. His brother, for once, looked a bit worried. He probably hadn't planned for Bookman to ever find them. He wondered how the old panda-man had found them in the first place.

They all sat in a straight line on the floor, wedged tightly together except for Sanjiv who had chosen to sit away from them. Mana supposed that sitting next to them would only make the situation worse. The young Bookman looked like the perfect picture of stoicism except for his hands. His fingers were buckled as they pressed against the floorboards, probably to release all the tension Sanjiv _must_ be feeling. Mana was convinced that Sanjiv actually had his own opinion about this matter. He hazarded to guess that it was something along the lines of, 'oh shit now I'm in for it.'

Bookman finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked Sanjiv. It appeared that for now the old panda-man was ignoring everyone else. Mana was relieved. He really didn't want to be in trouble with the panda-man.

Sanjiv didn't respond to Bookman's inquiry. In fact, he didn't even look up at the panda-man, choosing to stare at the small fire now burning in the fireplace instead. That was when Bookman karate-chopped him in the back of the head. Neah tensed up to his right. Mana jumped up an inch on the floor and then leaned in to hide behind Cross. Cross hadn't moved the entire time, probably because- Mana was ashamed to admit- he was accustomed to this kind of a scene. His friend had been on the receiving end of many slaps from his _family_, so maybe seeing an old panda-man deck his apprentice was completely normal. He decided he would apologize for that sometime soon.

Sophia seemed to have had the same idea, for she was now gripping Cross' left arm tightly while leaning into him as close as possible. Cross noticed that Mana was behind him and pushed him away. Mana had kind of been expecting that. The akuma kid actually yelped and hugged Sophia around the waist in a bid for protection. That was a new one. Mana had expected the kid to run away to his room upstairs. Sanjiv fell on his face, and for a moment the juggler feared that the strike had knocked the young Bookman unconscious. Then he heard his friend mutter, "Ow." Mana relaxed now that he knew Sanjiv was still among them.

"This is the second time that you've been going off without my permission," continued Bookman. Mana was shocked to hear an angry tone in the old panda-man's voice. He thought that Bookmen weren't allowed to feel or some sort of shit like that. When they got out of this mess he would have to ask Sanjiv about it. "Don't think that I haven't noticed! I knew that you had traveled to Italy as soon as I saw that shirt you are wearing now. That's a textile from Lombardy that's not so commonly found in Paris. If you were trying to fool me, then you should have used the exact same cloth as before."

So that was how the old panda-man knew... Mana still didn't understand how Bookman could notice something that small. Sophia had looked everywhere to find a fabric of the same color as Sanjiv's old navy tunic. Apparently that was not enough to fool Bookman. He wondered if all Bookmen were like this.

"It's my fault, Bookman," stated Neah. Everyone turned to look at his brother. Mana hadn't expected Neah to actually interrupt. Neah had nothing to gain by owning up to stealing Sanjiv for most of four months and destroying the last tunic. "I convinced him to come out here."

"I know that you're lying, Neah Walker," replied Bookman, his eyes boring into Neah's skull. "My apprentice needs little convincing to run off if there's any chance he'll gain new information about the war. This time, however, I feel that he is wasting his time with some childish game. Gather your things, Junior. We're leaving."

Sanjiv slowly and reluctantly got up from the floor. He picked up his bag and without looking at anyone else went over to the desk to start packing his books. Mana wanted to scream at him for giving into the panda-man so easily. He knew that his friend was much tougher than this. After all, Sanjiv had fought Neah in his Noah form and had survived with only a scratch (well, a little more than a scratch...). The young Bookman had seen more than any Bookman had probably ever seen before. He'd seen a Noah- two Noahs if Mana still counted himself- who desired to do something good.

"Aren't you curious, though, about why I brought him here?" inquired Neah coyly. It appeared that his brother was going to fight if Sanjiv was not.

"I don't care what you might have asked him," responded Bookman. He turned to face the front door. "Unless I gave explicit permission, Junior never releases any information that I have in my possession."

Neah stood up from his place on the floor. "Maybe I wanted to only give information for a change and receive nothing in exchange," drawled his brother casually. Cross scoffed when Neah said 'nothing'. Mana guessed that that was hard to believe for someone whose childhood friend was pretty much being held captive by his brother for personal gain. "Perhaps I opened the doors to let him see what might become the greatest historical moment of this entire drawn-out war."

Bookman paused before speaking again. Mana now understood what strategy his brother was pursuing. He was baiting the old panda-man. "What could possibly become of you reconciling with your brother?" questioned Bookman.

Sanjiv stopped packing his books into his bag to watch this new twist in the exchange.

"Everything," replied Neah. "With my brother and the other three I'm going to change the way this war is fought. This is my side."

Bookman turned to look at them all with one kohl-rimmed eye. "And what can you do with _your side_?"

His brother shrugged in a dramatic fashion, reminding Mana very much of himself. He couldn't help but be a little flattered. "I don't know," remarked Neah. "I was thinking about taking down the Millennium Earl, but I suppose you'll have to watch that from the peanut gallery."

Bookman's eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. "That's impossible," he said.

Neah smirked and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Only improbable," retorted his brother. "We'll just have to wait and see. The only question now is this: are you in or out?"

Everyone already knew what Bookman would say. This development was too tempting for the old panda-man to turn down. "I don't throw my lots in with anyone," stated Bookman, walking closer to Neah. "You're taking a great risk including me in this mad scheme of yours."

"I'm not worried about it," answered Neah. "It would have to be some trade for you to tell the Earl about this. I did expect, though, that you'd be worried about your stance. That's why I approached Junior first. With the way things are now, you can be in Paris where the Earl expects to be while saying your apprentice is off running an errand should anyone call upon you."

The old panda-man mulled this thought for a bit. "Yes," he agreed, "it will be much less suspicious if I'm not here in person. For the most part, Junior can be my eyes and ears here, although I request that you make it known to me which days you are travelling to Rome. You've made it very difficult for me to train my apprentice, Neah Walker, and there are still many things I have yet to teach him. I shall also call upon you myself approximately once a month."

Neah grinned as he looked down at Bookman. "That sounds agreeable to me," he said. "It's definitely a bargain on your part."

Sanjiv relaxed and laid the books back on the desk, his face its usual emotionless mask. Mana was beginning to see this as a sort of expression of contentment and happiness. Now if they could only get Sanjiv to laugh, then Mana would feel that his mission was complete. The Cross-Sophia-kid chain broke apart with all three of them looking quite embarrassed. It made it difficult for Mana to determine who he should bother first once Bookman left. He could go with Cross by default, but he hadn't tried the kid yet. Then again, the kid's good mood from the day could entirely disappear, and then he'd be in trouble. Mana didn't want to be eliminated from the face of the planet, so the kid would get a free pass for now.

"Yes, definitely a bargain," commented Bookman, "but I may add one thing."

They all looked at the old panda-man, curiosity building with each passing second. "What would that be?" asked Neah nonchalantly.

"You seem to be in a bit of a tight spot," replied Bookman. "Your landlady came by earlier today with a man from the waterworks and turned off your water."

"Damn it, Neah!" growled Cross, as the others groaned. "I told you to pay that bill yesterday!"

"Consider this as a settlement for whatever Junior has written down already," continued Bookman. "Have someone open an account here in the city tomorrow- preferably not yourself or Cross. You have someone watching you."

"I know," grumbled Cross. He glared at the ground, most likely thinking of a certain exorcist.

"I would suggest that Mana should open the account, seeing as Miss Sophia is supposed to be dead," elaborated Bookman. "By the end of the day the account should have £10,000 in it."

"£10,000?!" exclaimed Mana. Everyone else in the room seemed just as shocked as he did.

"Where the fuck are you getting that kind of money?!" inquired Cross. He looked up at the panda-man with wide eyes.

"You could probably buy a small country with that kind of money," breathed the akuma kid. He gave a low whistle. "£10,000..."

"It is Neah's inheritance from Cyrus Campbell," explained Bookman. The old panda-man pulled out a piece of paper from his wide sleeves. "He put a lock of a year on the account so that the Clan of Noah would be unable to access the money until Neah turned sixteen. Unfortunately, the Clan of Noah found him before he could deliver this document to you, Neah. He left it with a Parisian banker that I happened to have an account with, and I obtained this from him after he realized that it could be dangerous for him and his family. I decided to hold onto it until I figured out where Junior and you travelled to every day. With your signature you can access the money immediately and hide it from your family."

Neah frantically searched for a pen on the kitchen table. Cross went through his bag, but all he had were some nuts, bolts, and the Thing. He looked at it, and the Thing finally spit out a ballpoint pen. His brother looked at the slobbery writing instrument in complete disgust. Thankfully, Sanjiv offered him a much cleaner pen that Neah used to sign the document. The Thing looked a bit put out.

Bookman stuck the document back in his sleeve. "I shall be off now," he said. "Take Sanjiv back to Paris. He's not to leave again until I return there next week. The Earl knows that I did not take him with me on this escapade."

"Right," responded Neah. He pulled on his coat and then nodded his head at Sanjiv. "Let's go, then."

Sanjiv followed the panda-man out of the door, Neah closing it behind them. As soon as his brother was gone, the Thing blew a raspberry at the door. The akuma kid burst out laughing. "You know, I like the Thing," he chortled. "Are you going to name him?"

"I haven't thought about it yet," admitted Cross. "I was waiting until he's finished."

"Can I name him, then?" inquired the kid.

"Sure," stated Cross. "Knock yourself out."

Mana chuckled as he watched the kid thrust a fist into the air in celebration. He couldn't help but think that like how the kid was fond of the Thing, he was beginning to like the kid, too. Once you got past all of the initial murderous intentions, the kid wasn't half bad. If there was any chance at all that Cross could completely convert an akuma into a non-bloodthirsty machine, Mana really hoped that it would be this kid.

"I don't think I've ever seen £10,000," mused Sophia while the kid sat down on the ground and talked to the Thing.

"Well, at least I won't have to pay your bills anymore," said Cross. He sat down on one of the wooden chairs in the kitchen. "Just don't spend it all in one place, Mana."

"Why would I do that?" questioned Mana. He was a bit insulted that Cross thought he couldn't manage money. "I can be responsible just like you. Just ask Sophia. Who did the grocery shopping the other day?"

Sophia laughed as he prompted her answer with a wave of his hand. "You did, Mana," she replied.

"And who cooked dinner?" he questioned.

"You tried to cook, but then the vegetables started burning," she stated. "I ended up cooking dinner. You don't have to do everything for me, Mana."

Mana shrugged and held his hands up. Cross rolled his eyes. "Typical," his friend mumbled.

"Hey, I did try!" he protested. "I take care of Sophia, Neah, and the kid every day."

"I can take care of myself," interrupted Sophia.

"Me, too," said the kid, looking rather disgruntled.

"Well, keep on looking out for them," stated Cross. He stood up and picked the Thing up off the floor. The Thing waved goodbye to the kid with its tail. "I doubt Neah will."

"He's not as malicious as before, Cross," sighed Mana. They'd had this argument before whenever Neah wasn't around. "He's just... not careful. He means well, but he makes mistakes."

"That's what I'm really afraid of," said Cross. He gave Sophia a hug and then walked out the door.

**Yup. It's definitely not Thursday of last week or even Sunday for that matter. I will say, though, that this is officially the longest chapter I have ever written. I'm sure my beta is not happy with me right now. Anyhow, look forward to more developments on the akuma kid next chapter. There's a big revelation coming on that one. ;) Please review!**


	21. Chapter 21: Morgen

**Yikes, the beginning of the school year is coming up. Updates might come a bit slower once classes start, but I'll do my best to update once a week. Thanks to ilikedan, Kaite1211, and TooLazyToLogin for the reviews. TooLazyToLogin, your question will be answered this chapter. So glad you asked! Also, thanks to WithoutWingsX for adding this story to their alert list!**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: Nein. Nicht. Nada. Don't own D. Gray-man or any of the lovely songs I have used.**

**Part Twenty-One: Morgen**

"_And tomorrow the sun will shine again_

_And on the way which I shall follow_

_She will again unite us lucky ones_

_As all around us the earth breathes in the sun_."

John Henry Mackay

Today was the day. After four months of hard work on the Thing, Cross had finally finished him. That is, everything besides the name. The kid was still working on that one. Neah thought that naming it was a waste of time and to just call it Thing the First, but that set the Thing to crying. Mana then had tried to comfort him, but after the Thing tried to bite him- the Thing didn't seem to like Mana- he gave up on that pursuit. Of course the kid became more determined than ever to name the Thing because of that incident.

He tightened links holding the wings together one more time just to make sure they stayed together. It would do no good for the little golden sheets to fall off as soon as the Thing began flapping his wings. Cross then polished the main body and looked his creation over. He began to smirk when he noticed something new on the front. Neah would not be happy about this, but Cross wasn't going to tell the Thing to change back to his usual appearance. It served Neah right.

Cross tucked the Thing into his bag and then pulled walked out the door. People didn't seem to give him a second glance as he walked past them in his civilian clothes. He kept his head down as he made his way to the lower floors. There was an empty office on the first floor that he had picked the lock to long ago. It was his main escape path when going to visit the others at the row house. He looked around before ducking into the office. Like always the room was empty and unoccupied, so Cross opened the window and climbed out the window.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, though, he turned back to the window to climb back inside. He really didn't want to face the angry Indian exorcist standing in front of him. "Where were you going?" asked Khanna.

"Just testing fire escape routes," lied Cross, not turning to face the exorcist. He then tried to channel all the charm he'd ever seen Neah Walker use. "It's terribly irresponsible to not have them marked down-"

"Don't lie to me," seethed Khanna. Charm apparently was not effective on the exorcist. He'd have to keep that in mind in the future. "You might have those silly girls in the main office looking out for you, but don't think that nobody else noticed your absence. One of your co-workers mentioned that you sometimes disappear from Headquarters. Where the hell were you going, Cross?"

He was stuck now. Cross was fairly certain should he run or attempt to scramble back into the window, Khanna would stop him. There was nothing else he could say. "I was headed... to tea," he mumbled.

"Tea?!" inquired Khanna in complete disbelief. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I've never seen you drink tea, only that shitty office coffee."

"Well, I can choose to drink a damn cup of tea if I so wish," grumbled Cross. He blew the loose hair out of his face in agitation. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have friends waiting for me-"

Khanna stepped into his path. "I want to see these 'friends' of yours," demanded the exorcist.

"What?" questioned Cross blankly.

"How am I to know that you actually went to tea with friends unless I see these people myself?" inquired Khanna. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "How am I to know that these 'friends' aren't accomplices of the Earl? You're not going to tea today-"

"But-" interjected Cross. He really was expected at the row house. Neah wanted to go over plans for a raid he had planned. The damn brat would probably come looking for him if he kept them waiting too long.

"-unless I go with you," continued Khanna.

The situation could not possibly be any worse. If he said no and didn't go, the damn exorcist would be even more suspicious of him than he already was. But if he said yes... Cross didn't even know who all was there. There was a strong chance that Sanjiv was at the row house and maybe even Bookman. Khanna could discover their little scheme and then they'd all be fucked. He had to say no and take one for the team. The exorcist looked him over with a dark, evil gleam in his eyes. Cross could practically feel those eyes petrifying everything in their gaze. Everything, that is, except something in his bag, fighting to get out. He had an idea.

Reaching a hand into his bag, Cross grabbed the main body of the Thing and pulled him to the surface just under the flap. He had set the Thing to automatically record everything and to replay information on command. "_You_ want to go to tea, Khanna?" asked Cross. He felt the Thing become still in his hand. Good, he was at least paying attention to the conversation even though he couldn't see it.

"I never said that I _wanted_ to go," spat the exorcist. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "However, if you insist on going-"

"I hope you're ready for a bit of a hike, then," said Cross. "The place is on the other side of town, so it should take- I don't know- about fifteen minutes."

"I'm an exorcist, Cross," stated Khanna, rolling his eyes. "Walking isn't going to kill me. Let's go to your damn tea party."

Khanna turned on his heels and headed out to the main road. While his back was turned, Cross released the Thing. He watched as the Thing zoomed off in a blur. For the first time, he was glad that the Thing was golden. It would be much too hard for Khanna to see flying through the air. The speed enhancing spell had been a good choice. Now he just had to hope the Thing actually made it there and was not attacked by some dumb bird.

Cross tried to prolong the walk to the row house for as long as possible by weaving through every side street they came across. Khanna quickly became annoyed and asked for the address. Once Cross told him, the exorcist began to lead the way. Fortunately, they'd wandered far enough that they arrived exactly fifteen minutes after Cross had released the Thing. The exorcist rapped his knuckles on the door until Sophia opened it.

"Oh, hello!" she quipped while straightening out her gingham skirts. Sophia had made the dress after they'd received the ₤10,000 from Bookman. She was quite proud of the dress since she'd never had the need to make spring clothing while in Great Britain. Cross admitted to himself that it was a rather pretty dress. The green lower skirt helped to make the black and white gingham pop out much like how a certain green crystal hidden under a black ribbon choker did against Sophia's pale skin. "You should tell us that you're bringing a guest next time, Cross. I'll have to set another place now."

"Sorry!" he apologized. He looked into her eyes and hoped that she knew that he really meant it. Cross would never wish Indivar Khanna's presence onto any other person. The Clan of Noah, however, was a special case. They could take him. "This is-"

"I'm Indivar Khanna," said the exorcist. Cross was impressed that the exorcist was actually trying to be polite. "I am an... acquaintance of Cross. And you are?"

"I'm Sophia Maria," she replied with a polite nod of the head. "Do come in."

She stepped away from the door and held it open. The house, for once, looked spotless. Cross could tell it was still the same old place, but everything just looked... neater. Sanjiv's books were not strewn across the desk, there were no dishes in the sink, and it appeared that someone had dusted. He wondered if Sophia had done all of this. It made him feel bad, for it really had all been last minute. Once they were inside she shut the door and walked over to the base of the stairs. As soon as she was out of earshot, Khanna muttered, "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend!" he hissed. He glared at the exorcist, his face beginning to turn red. "Sophia is a childhood friend."

"Well, how was I to know that?" asked Khanna, feigning innocence.

"You never fucking asked," Cross whispered back venomously.

"Mana! Neah! Cross is here!" she called up the stairs.

Two sets of footsteps echoed through the upstairs hall and then came down the stairs. "About time," remarked Neah. It appeared that the younger Walker had attempted to tame his wild hair.

Mana, on the other hand, looked like he had put in no effort. "Cross!" he cried out. Like the first time, the juggler came over and attempted to kiss him on the cheek like some old grandmother. Cross held out an arm to push him away.

"Stop it!" he hissed as Mana struggled against the arm. Mana settled for an awkward hug that caused Khanna to quirk an eyebrow.

"Please excuse my _older_ brother," commented Neah.

"It's been so long!" exclaimed Mana enthusiastically.

"I saw you two last week!" groused Cross. He finally succeeded in pushing Mana away. "That's not a long time."

"It is to me," huffed Mana. He walked over to a chair at the table and sat down. The juggler proceeded to pout.

As Neah introduced himself and his brother, Sophia came over to Cross and pulled the Thing out of her apron pocket. She placed the Thing discreetly in his closest hand.

"So you got the message," he mumbled.

"Yes," she responded. "Thanks for letting us know."

"How did you all manage this?" he inquired.

"Well," she began with a giggle, "when we got your message, it sort of became a mad dash. We dumped everything into Mana and Neah's room, and then we scrubbed the floor."

"You got Mana _and_ Neah to scrub the floor?" he questioned. Cross was very impressed and more than a little bit amused at this news. The idea of Neah Walker, Lord of Walker Manor and the Noah of Destruction, scrubbing floors was so absurd that he wanted to laugh. Now would not be a good time, though. He would bother Neah about it later.

Sophia smiled. "Yes," she chuckled. "He had his sleeves rolled up and became all red in the face. If Mana and I hadn't been so scared at the time, I think we would have fallen over laughing."

He felt Khanna's eyes wander over to him and Sophia, so he finished their conversation with a small smile. Cross buried the Thing back into his bag and sat down at the table opposite of Mana. Sophia took the seat to his right. Khanna and Neah soon joined them, the exorcist taking the seat to Cross' left. Neah, at the opposite end of the table, began pouring tea into the- surprisingly- matching china. The wonders that £10,000 could do.

"So, Mr. Khanna, what do you do for a living?" asked Neah. It seemed that politeness was catching. Cross was reminded of the way Neah had interacted with his family when they were younger- the stiff manner of speech forced upon young gentlemen early in their childhood. "Cross doesn't tell us much about work, except that he's some sort of scientist."

"I'm afraid that it's rather confidential," replied Khanna with a frown. Cross had doubted the exorcist would say anything if it wasn't necessary.

"Well, that sounds rather exciting," responded Neah, sounding somewhat disappointed. Cross wondered where the younger Walker was trying to go with this. "I suppose you're working on obtaining a permit, then."

"No," stated Khanna curtly.

Neah pursed his lips and then proceeded to change the subject. "I'm afraid Cross never told us how he met you. He keeps such _odd_ company usually, so I can't help but wonder-"

"It's really not that interesting of a tale," interrupted the exorcist. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You really aren't going to tell us anything about yourself," sighed Neah as he put the teapot down. Cross now saw that the younger Walker was trying to get a leg up in this situation.

"Not a chance," remarked Khanna.

"Sugar?"

"No."

"Milk?"

"No."

"Cream?"

"If I said no to sugar and milk, what makes you think I'd say yes to cream?" inquired the exorcist. His right eye began to twitch.

Neah handed Khanna his cup. "There you go, then," huffed the younger Walker. This was one relationship that wasn't starting very well. Cross couldn't care less, for he didn't like either of them. It probably would have been worse for him if they had teamed up anyways.

Cross could feel the vibrations of Mana's legs shaking under the table, but his upper half remained perfectly still. It appeared that the juggler hadn't forgotten every story he'd ever heard about Indivar Khanna. Mana wasn't taking any chances and refused to look the exorcist in the eye. "So… the weather is lovely today."

"Yes it is," agreed Sophia.

"Most definitely," added Cross.

"Isn't it too hot to be wearing that thing around your neck?" questioned Khanna.

Mana coughed while Sophia only looked at the exorcist and said, "Pardon?"

"It's May," commented Khanna. "Surely it's too hot to be wearing that bizarre piece of fabric."

"Oh, well, I'm used to wearing this," she replied. Sophia began fidgeting with the black choker and her pendant of the Virgin Mary. "It's… fashionable from where I came. I'm from London, you see-"

"London?" asked Khanna. It appeared that the exorcist meant to grill them all to find out why they were here. Cross had seen grown men crack under these kinds of interrogations. They would have to be very careful. "How did you end up here in Rome?"

"Um..."

"She ran into us, you see," interrupted Mana. He picked apart a biscuit on his plate, but didn't eat any of the pieces. "I'm a travelling performer of all trades- juggling, acrobatics, and clowning- and my brother is a musician. One day while we were wandering the streets we heard the most beautiful voice, so of course we had to investigate. That's how we met Sophia. My brother was in need of a singer- it's so hard to book a show without one- so they teamed up. We grew tired of England, and I had a job down here with a circus at the beginning of the year. In the end, we all ended up moving here."

"That sounds like an adventure," sniffed the exorcist. "Now I'm wondering who you mean by 'we all.'"

"Excuse me?" questioned Mana innocently, a cheeky grin stretched upon his face. Cross could see a nervous sweat building up around Mana's hairline. The juggler's biscuit was nothing besides fine powder now.

"There's a sixth place set at the table," pointed out Khanna. "Obviously you are expecting someone else."

Everyone looked at the sixth, empty spot next to Mana. Cross was fairly certain who was supposed to be sitting there, and that redhead was probably walking around Rome avoiding this street like his life depended on it. Neah almost dropped the teapot on Cross' lap. Sophia stared at the empty spot, horrified that she'd forgotten to put the cup away. Mana began to laugh nervously and rub the back of his head. Cross closed his eyes and actually began to mutter a Hail Mary while Khanna glowered at the cup and then the stairs.

It seemed as if Mary was in a bad mood, for a lighter pair of footsteps came crashing down the stairs belonging to none other than a certain young akuma. "Sorry I'm late, guys," yawned the kid. "I fell asleep. Why didn't you call me, Sophia?"

Sophia appeared too stunned for a moment to speak. She did her best to smile and to take this moment in stride. "Mana told me you were taking a nap, so I didn't want to wake you," she replied. She took a tea sandwich off of the center tray and began to munch on it.

Khanna watched her polish the sandwich off in a mere two minutes before she reached to place five more on her plate. Cross wasn't sure if the exorcist was impressed or moderately horrified to see a little girl eat a sandwich so quickly. The exorcist closed his eyes and shook his head. "And who are you?" he inquired.

The kid stuck his hands in his pockets and began rocking back and forth on his feet. "Oh, I'm Allen," stated the kid. "I'm Mana and Neah's little brother."

Mana looked ready to protest, so Cross kicked him under the table. He then glared at the older Walker to keep him quiet. They were just going to have to run with it. "Step brother," clarified Neah. "Our father married his mother."

"Right," said Khanna. He took a sip from his tea. "And where are you parents?"

The kid looked down at the ground sadly and began to sniffle. Mana ran over to him and gave him another one of his awkward hugs. "Are you okay, Allen?" he asked uncertainly.

"Their parents died in the epidemic two years ago," whispered Cross. He might as well help them with this illusion of a normal life. "Tuberculosis is nasty stuff."

"That's a shame," remarked Khanna. He was as heartless as ever not even apologizing to a kid. "It must be difficult."

"We get by," responded Neah. Mana and the kid sat down at the table, the kid taking the empty spot between the two Walker brothers. Neah asked the kid if he wanted tea, which he declined. It was at this point Cross noticed how ridiculous this entire situation had become. He was sitting at a table having afternoon tea with an exorcist to his left, a rogue exorcist to his right, an ex-Noah across the table, an akuma, and a real Noah who had just handed a tray of scones down the table. When Cross offered Khanna a scone, the exorcist only glowered at the tray. He took that as a no thank you and passed the tray to Sophia who took two scones.

"Shouldn't your little brother be in school?" questioned the exorcist. "It is a week day."

"I think that's entirely up to us to decide," replied Neah curtly, the corner of his mouth curling down as he took a sip from his cup. "We're not familiar with the schools around this area nor do we have the money for tuition."

Khanna watched Mana pile a dozen sugar cubes into his cup. "Right," drawled the exorcist. Cross gave Mana another kick in the shins, hoping the older Walker would realize that he needed to stop it with the sugar. Any person on the street could tell you that sugar was not cheap. The juggler winced, tears welling up in his eyes, but put the sugar down. He was probably forming a bruise on his shin by now. Khanna seemed relieved that Mana had finally stopped.

"There's a school run by a church not far from here," continued Khanna. He held up a hand to refuse the bowl of strawberries Mana was now offering him. "I can bring up Allen's case to Father Andrew."

"No thank you," stated Neah coldly.

"You don't want your brother to receive an education?"

"We're not a charity case," spat Neah. He glared at the exorcist across the table. "We can teach him ourselves."

Cross suddenly understood what the discussion was really about: who was in control. It was petty, really, to see a thirty-five year old man and a teenage runaway lord fighting over control of the table. He wondered if subconsciously the Inner Noah was provoking Neah. Perhaps it was instinct for a Noah and an exorcist to fight.

"Would anyone like more tea?" inquired Mana cheerfully.

"Stay out of this!" growled Neah and Khanna.

"Um, mister, who are you?" asked the kid. He looked over at Khanna with wide eyes. Cross was relieved to notice the kid's pupils were not dilated. That meant he could hold on for a while without running off. Of course, he wasn't sure if having two accommodators in the room would change the kid's reaction in the long run. He'd have to keep a close eye on him.

"I'm Mr. Khanna," he said through gritted teeth, clearly annoyed to have to repeat himself and have his argument interrupted again. "I work for the same organization as Cross."

'Allen' gaped at the man. "Does that mean you're a magician, too?"

Khanna spat some of his tea out of his mouth onto the empty plate in front of him. Mana fell out of his chair and began rocking back and forth laughing. Sophia ran over to exchange the exorcist's plate for a dry one. Cross was pretty certain he heard her chortling as she ran water in the sink to rinse off the dirty plate. Neah dabbed at his mouth with a napkin to hide his smirk. Cross was having a pretty hard time containing himself. He was rather much enjoying this character of 'Allen' the kid had created. The only thing that kept him in check was that he was rather embarrassed at this point. Sure, the forced politeness from earlier had been stifling, but now they looked like a bunch of fools. He wasn't sure what was better for the exorcist to see.

Khanna's face turned red. "No," he responded. He enunciated each word. "I am _not_ a damn magician."

The kid gasped. "You just used the 'D' word!" he exclaimed.

"People might tell you not to, kid, but everyone does," growled the exorcist. He then reached for a sandwich only to find there were none left on the tray. Khanna turned to Sophia. "Did you just eat that entire tray of sandwiches?!"

"Um... yes?" replied Sophia as she dried off the plate.

"How did a little girl like you eat two dozen sandwiches?" asked the exorcist.

Sophia looked about ready to panic. Cross saw the kid bite his lip, getting ready for what usually came next when she became nervous like this. Neah's eyes looked about ready to bulge out of his head. They all knew that Sophia had a tendency of accidentally activating her Innocence when she panicked. If Khanna were to see that...

Cross grabbed the fruit platter and passed it to Khanna, hoping that would appease him for now. The exorcist sneered at him but took a slice of orange anyhow. Sophia was visibly shaking now and looking at him with wide eyes. He'd have to get her out of the room in order to avoid any accidents. After running through several spells in his mind he found the perfect one for this situation. "Did you stay up all night getting this ready, Sophia?" he inquired. He began forming magic symbols under the table with his free hand. "You really didn't have to push everything else aside just for a little tea party."

"Oh, I wasn't tired," she replied, looking very uncertain. Sophia put the plate down on the kitchen counter. "I hardly realized that the time went by."

"You must stop doing that," sighed Neah. He seemed to have caught on somewhat. The younger Walker looked desperate to know exactly what was going on, but after staring at Cross for a couple minutes he seemed to decide to let the magician do his own thing. "I won't allow you to skip breakfast and lunch again."

Cross finished signing the spell under the table and saw the effects immediately. Sophia became unsteady on her feet and her eyelids drooped. Both Walker brothers looked at her in great concern. "Sophia, are you alright?" questioned Mana. He stood up from his spot on the ground.

The kid looked completely confused while Khanna just quirked an eyebrow. Cross stood up and walked over to Sophia. "Sophia?" he inquired. Just as he reached her, she fell over, causing the others to yelp. He caught her before she hit the ground much to everyone's relief.

"What the hell just happened?" asked Khanna.

"She fell asleep," answered Cross. He hooked an arm under her knees. "Probably wore herself out."

"Will she be okay?" inquired 'Allen'. He looked rather jittery. Between sitting here with two accommodators, the questioning, and this surprise the akuma was quickly reaching his limit. Cross would have to get him out of the room two, at least for a little while.

"She just needs some sleep," responded Cross. "I'm going to take her upstairs to her room. Hey, Allen, could you come with me and open the door?"

"Sure!" chimed the kid. He hopped off his chair and ran up the stairs ahead of Cross. When they reached her room, the kid closed the door behind them and let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks for that."

"I didn't want you transforming in his face," said Cross as he laid Sophia down on the bed. "Khanna would kill you."

"I kind of figured that," snorted the kid. "So, what did you do to her? It must have been you."

"It's a simple sleeping spell," replied Cross. He tucked her in. "It will wear off in about an hour."

"Mana was right," stated the kid. "You are a good magician."

"And you're a damn good actor," remarked Cross.

"Oh, that wasn't acting," commented the kid. "My name, well, this body's name really is Allen."

Cross shrugged. "I'll keep that in mind," he told the kid. "Don't hold me to calling you that. You should've told us in the first place. I'm surprised Neah didn't assign you some stupid name like Francis or Tom or Tim-"

"Whatever," grumbled the kid as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He began turning the doorknob. "Let's just go downstairs. Maybe that bastard will leave now."

However, 'that bastard' was climbing up the stairs when they entered the hallway. "What's taking you so long, Cross?" asked Khanna bitterly. "You left me downstairs with those two idiots."

"My brothers aren't idiots!" cried out 'Allen.'

"Sorry to disagree, kid, but they are," said the exorcist without any hint of apology in his voice.

"They're a bit eccentric," stated Cross, trying to push everything bad those two brats had ever done to him out of his mind. It would do no good to tell Khanna about all their transgressions.

"More like batshit crazy," muttered Khanna. His eyes suddenly shot up to the ceiling. Cross followed his gaze and saw what looked like a trap door carved into the whitewashed ceiling. He hadn't spent much time on the second floor during his visits, so he'd never noticed it before. As he turned to ask the kid about it, the exorcist pulled out his sword and stabbed it through the trapdoor. The kid squeaked in surprise, and Cross noted he sounded mildly horrified. Khanna pulled his sword out and looked at the clean blade. "I think you might have rodents in your attic. I'd suggest calling a rat catcher."

"Right," the kid gulped as the exorcist sheathed his sword.

Now, Cross had done his best so far to accept everyone's behavior today. He would allow petty power struggles and sugary tea, but now things had gone too far. It was his money that rented this shitty little row house for the first four months, and now they would have to pay the landlady to fix the hole Khanna had unnecessarily put in the ceiling. "What the hell?!" he shouted. "You don't have to go waving around poking swords into people's houses to say that they _might_ have pests!"

"Well, do you want me to open the damn door and check?" inquired the exorcist angrily. "Oh wait, this place is so cheap that there isn't even a string to open it!"

That was true. Cross hadn't seen a string coming from the trapdoor, nor any other kind of handle to open it. He was still pissed, though. "Maybe it's cheap," seethed Cross, "but it's a whole hell of a lot better than being locked away inside Headquarters all the time. So stop telling me what to do about our damn house!"

"So that's what you've been doing with your wages," grumbled Khanna. "Paying the rent for a bunch of idiots! If that's what you want to do, then fine. Just don't bring them around the Headquarters. We don't need any more fools running around the place."

Khanna turned his back on them and walked down the stairs. The kid stuck his tongue out at the exorcist's back. Cross rolled his eyes at the immature gesture but couldn't help grinning because of it. When they came downstairs, Mana was walking over to the sink balancing all six teacups on his chin. Neah snatched them from his brother before he could finish his journey. "But I was doing so well!" Mana whined.

"I'm not letting you destroy that tea set," snapped the younger Walker.

"Thank you for tea," stated Khanna, his tone now very formal. "I'm afraid I must bid you all farewell. Let's go, Cross."

"I'll be sticking around for a bit, thank you," he retorted. "I'm not a damn dog."

Khanna looked at him and then the others, his eyes examining each of their faces. "Fine," agreed the exorcist. "I'll see you back at Headquarters tonight."

Without another word Khanna walked outside and slammed the door behind him. All four of them remained silent for the next five minutes, only the noise of their breathing filling the void. Finally they began to move about and make casual conversation. "You really hate him, don't you?" questioned Mana.

"Not as much as Neah seems to hate him," replied Cross.

"I never said I hated him," sniffed Neah. He began to fold the tablecloth. "I just find him to be a stuck up son of a bitch."

"Neah!" exclaimed Mana in mock disbelief. He walked over to the kid and covered his ears. The kid struggled against Mana's hands. "Language!"

"Your brother is right for once, Mana," said Cross. "He's a bastard."

Mana shook his head. "He was only here for an hour, but he already has you two cussing," tittered the juggler. "I hate to think what would have happened to us if he had stayed longer."

"I can live with the swearing," mumbled the kid. "It's the sword that scares me."

"Well, calling him a magician certainly pushed him over the edge," admitted Mana with a snicker. "Wouldn't you say so, 'Allen.'"

Mana and 'Allen' both burst out laughing, while Cross just chuckled to himself. When they once again settled into an uncomfortable silence, Neah broke it by asking, "Do you think he's really gone now?"

Cross looked out the window and saw no one besides children playing in the gutter under the watchful eyes of the women hanging laundry on the lines overhead. "Yes, he's really gone," he responded.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the other three ran up the stairs. Cross followed them and found the kind on Mana's shoulders knocking on the trapdoor. "Hey! Are you okay in there?" inquired the kid.

"Sanjiv! Please say something!" exclaimed Mana.

At least Cross now know why Khanna had driven a sword through the ceiling. He now knew how close of a call it had truly been. Cross wanted to ask why the hell they hadn't gotten the young Bookman out of the house, but right now he was a bit more curious as to how Sanjiv had avoided the sword. From all of his sparring sessions with the exorcist, Cross knew that Khanna was deadly accurate with his blows.

The trap door swung open revealing a rather annoyed looking Sanjiv. "Those protective spells are a little too good, Cross," stated the young Bookman. He jumped through the hole in the ceiling and closed the trapdoor. "I couldn't even pry the vent off up there. Next time just let me leave through the back door, Neah."

"It's not all my fault," retorted Neah. He looked at Cross accusingly. "I'd like to know why the hell that bastard was here in the first place!"

"Not everyone can just pop from one place to the other like a fairy," groused Cross. He had reached the point where he actually wished he were in the laboratory. Neah accusing him of bringing someone synonymous to calamity knocking was ridiculous. "I didn't want to bring him."

"And only fifteen minutes, too!" snarled the younger Walker. It appeared that Neah wanted to pick a fight. "Twelve if you count the Thing's travel time. Next time either give us a warning in advance or don't come at all!"

"I came because I knew that _you_ would have come looking for me if I hadn't!" shouted Cross. He stepped closer to Neah and looked down at the shorter boy. "That would have been far worse in the end!"

"Why do you always assume that I can't take care of myself?!" bellowed Neah. "I wouldn't have been caught!"

"How the hell are we supposed to know that?!" hollered Cross. He was practically spitting his words just to add emphasis. "So far you've survived on circumstance, on luck! That can't and won't last forever, but you'll keep busting your way through all of this because you don't care what being caught would mean for everyone else!"

"It wouldn't mean anything!" sneered Neah, his eyes once again bulging out of his head. "The Order wouldn't have been able to connect any of you with me! Plus my shitty family would probably break me out in the end and applaud my efforts to spy!"

"No offense, but we don't have the advantage of anonymity, if you'd care to notice!" roared Cross. He balled both of his fists. "Khanna has known for months that I've been sneaking out of the Order! If it hadn't been today then I'm sure he would've found us tomorrow! He's not a scholar, but he's not stupid, Neah! Someday he'll probably trace all of us back to Walker Manor and then we'll really be fucked! What are you going to do then?!"

Neah slammed a fist against the wall leaving a sizable dent. "WELL WHAT DO YOU THINK I SHOULD DO?!" barked the younger Walker. "YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SMART, BUT YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BE HERE RIGHT NOW IF IT WASN'T FOR RHIAN'S PROTECTION! YOU THINK THAT _I'M_ DANGEROUS! LOOK IN THE MIRROR, CROSS! AS MUCH AS YOU MAY DENY IT, YOU BRING CHAOS IN YOUR WAKE!"

"WELL, IF YOU HONESTLY FEEL THAT WAY THEN I'LL JUST LEAVE!" growled Cross. He stomped down the stairs towards the front door. "I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO HELP YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE! KEEP THE OTHERS OUT OF YOUR STUPID-ASS SCHEMES!"

With that said, he opened and slammed the door behind him. He stormed back to Headquarters, ignoring Mana and the kid calling his name out of the second floor window.

oOo

After training with Khanna for several hours, Cross returned to his room and found that he couldn't sleep. He laid in his bed for an hour before giving up and taking out some pieces of scrap metal. Cross sat at his desk for half an hour searching through the cardboard box of discarded gears and wires before realizing he was setting aside some of the same pieces he had used to make the Thing. The Thing had been rather quiet that night, so he decided to check on it. When he turned around, though, he came face to face with Neah Walker.

"You left your bag at the house," said the young lord. He set it down on the ground in front of Cross and looked away. "The others are pretty upset about you leaving- well, maybe not Sanjiv. I don't think he has upset in his teeny tiny range of expressions."

Cross snorted and pulled the Thing out of his bag. He shook out his little wings and then flew to a spot atop the magician's head. "I don't think so either," replied Cross.

They sat there for a long while in silence, Neah looking at the side wall with his hands in his pockets. Finally, the younger Walker spoke again. "I am concerned about the others, you know," he stated quietly. He sat down on top of Cross' bed and looked down at his hands. "It's just… difficult for me to express it. You know what I was like when I was a kid. I never really had to care for anything, so I didn't. That is, until I saw Mana again. I didn't think that I missed him that much until I saw his face. We're connected in a way that the Clan can never hope to replace. I think he knows that, even though I may never say it."

"Did he put you up to coming here tonight?" asked Cross. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the young Noah skeptically.

"He wanted me to," admitted Neah, "but he actually doesn't know that I really came here. It's stupid, really, but I know that I'm going to have to apologize because we need you around. Mana, Sophia, the kid- well- Allen, they all look to you. Even Rory looked to you when we were kids. I can't replace that because I can't care quite as deeply."

"Who says that I care?" inquired Cross a bit too defensively.

"You do care," responded Neah, looking up at him. "You care because you have the most to lose if this all goes wrong. This might sound bad coming now, but that's part of the reason I sought you out. I knew you'd never be able to say no because Sophia and eventually even Mana would have said yes. There was no way you'd let them walk the path to hell by themselves."

"Do you really think this is the path to hell, Neah?" questioned Cross. It was so unlike the younger Walker to talk like this that it slightly scared Cross. He knew that there was a high chance of everything going wrong, but with the progress they'd made in the past month they were finally ready to start implementing their plans. They were going to have serious problems later on if they already doubted themselves.

Neah pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "I'm afraid, Cross," he said. "I've seen the chaos left in the wake of this war. I know things that you can never hope and never should wish to know. Everything about my plans carries such a great risk, but I still will go forward with them. It may lead to hell, and if it does then I want you to force the others to turn back."

"Why don't you tell Mana this?" asked Cross.

"Because he would never leave me if it were up to him," replied Neah, his eyes softening. "He promised me that he'd follow me no matter what. Back then, I really wanted him to stay with me, but now… I just don't want him to get hurt."

Cross sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn, what happened to that brat that I used to be forced to follow around?"

Neah chuckled a bit. "I began to see things differently," he answered. "So, will you follow me again?"

The Thing took off from on top of Cross' head and began flying circles above Neah. "There's no damn point in changing my mind now," stated Cross. He sat forward in his chair. "We'll just have to be more careful going forward. I do seem to have rotten luck."

Neah smirked and stood up to leave. "That you do," he agreed. "I must return to the Ark tonight for a _family_ meeting, but hopefully I shall see you tomorrow."

"Right," commented Cross. He watched as Neah opened a gateway in his room. "I'm just not sure I have the most to lose, Neah. I do care about the others, but if things were to go wrong I think you would feel it most of all."

Neah just stood there for a moment before turning back to smile at him. "That's why we must make sure that nothing goes wrong." He left and the gateway closed behind him in a blinding flash of light. The Thing zipped back to his spot on Cross' head, shaking dizzily when he landed. It felt good to have resolved this argument with Neah, but he still wasn't tired. Cross pulled on a pair of boots and left his room to take a turn out in the hallway.

oOo

He had grown accustomed to seeing the empty halls of Headquarters at night. Recently he'd signed up more often for the later shift so that he could go to the row house in the morning. It was certainly more peaceful now that everyone was asleep. Not even the Crows patrolled the lower floors of Headquarters at this time of night.

The Thing flew high above his head exploring every nook and cranny of the stone building. When he flew around a corner, though, the Thing suddenly turned around and zoomed back to him. Cross fell over from the force of the Thing's impact and felt him burrow into one of his pockets. That was when he heard the footsteps. He stood up quietly and found the nearest broom closet. Cross forced himself to hide inside despite his distaste for the cramped cupboard of cleaning products. He had avoided broom closets for months after the incident with Gwendolyn last year.

The footsteps came around the corner and stopped pretty close to the closet. Cross could barely make out two sets of feet by looking through the crack under the door. "I thought I saw something," said a deep baritone that Cross instantly recognized as Khanna's voice. He wondered if the exorcist was on patrol for some strange reason or if he'd decided to take a midnight stroll just like him.

"You've been on edge ever since you returned from the city this afternoon," replied a woman's voice. Cross recognized this voice, too. It belonged to Amaranta, the woman who worked in Communications. He'd seen her talking to Khanna before, but he'd never seen them walking about together. This was definitely a conversation worth hearing. "Where did you go with Cross?"

"He apparently has friends living on the other side of the city," stated Khanna. His feet began to move away from the broom closet.

"Are they really his friends?" inquired Amaranta.

"I'm not sure," replied Khanna. "They're all definitely familiar with him. The one boy Mana I had heard about from Mother. He was there with his two younger brothers and a girl: Neah, Allen, and Sophia. Sophia and Allen were a little odd, but there was something just plain wrong about Neah."

"What was it?" questioned Amaranta, running to catch up with Khanna. Cross held his breath waiting for the exorcist's response. He wasn't even certain if the Order knew about the Clan of Noah. They'd be in trouble if Khanna knew anything about that.

The exorcist was silent for a moment. "I can't quite put my finger on it," he responded. "He had a kind of darkness about him. Definitely not a happy person like his brother."

Cross refrained from sighing out loud lest Khanna and Amaranta should hear him. At least they didn't know about Neah or the Clan. He'd have to be grateful for that missing piece of information. "A darkness, you say," murmured Amaranta. "You've been wrong about things like this before. You thought that Cross was awfully suspicious in the beginning, but I don't see anything wrong with him. Perhaps I should go with him next time."

"I don't think he would let you," replied Khanna. His voice became softer. "I've been wrong before, but Neah Walker is a dangerous boy, that I am absolutely certain about. Please, don't try to follow Cross, my dear."

Cross stifled a laugh. True, it was concerning to hear them talking about him and his friends like this, but the ever-stoic exorcist had just called someone 'my dear.' After getting over the hysterical peculiarity of it all, he began to think about what that phrase meant in the bigger picture. It struck him suddenly: Amaranta and Khanna were definitely more than acquaintances. They were more than friends. He suddenly felt very claustrophobic, like he had treaded on a moment that was obviously meant to be private. There was no way to escape now. He'd just have to wait until they were far, _far_ away and sneak back to his room.

Amaranta huffed, obviously annoyed. "You know, I'd generally believe you were just paranoid, but this has really gotten to you," she remarked. "Maybe that darkness you thought was part of Cross was really just something left over from before."

"What do you mean?" asked Khanna.

"Just think about it for a moment," whispered Amaranta. "You find a boy who keeps crossing paths with the war. He doesn't really have a name or any sort of history about him- I've seen his interview file. No family, no home… You thought that he was involved with the Bookmen, that he was covering their tracks to keep them out of trouble. I think it's something else, though. It's obvious that something got him in the beginning, something before you met him, maybe even before he was in the circus and met Bookman Junior. He might seem free, but this thing still has him and won't let him go."

"Well, what am I supposed to do about that?" inquired Khanna.

"Help him," said Amaranta.

"What?!"

"He'll never ask for help," she explained. He heard her take a few steps, probably towards Khanna. "It's not who he is. But he needs help, Indivar. He's still so young…"

"He's seventeen already," interrupted the exorcist. "Cross isn't a kid anymore. I think he can take care of himself."

Cross heard something that sounded like a hard swat to the arm. Khanna cursed under his breath. "Will you try and help him, please?" Amaranta quietly begged.

Cross could just imagine the blond secretary looking up at Khanna with large, pleading eyes. As nice as it was that someone was worried about him, he didn't really want Khanna breathing down his neck even more than before. "Fine," grumbled the exorcist. Cross wasn't sure who was angrier about this: Khanna or him. "I'll see if I can find out anything more about Neah Walker. If there's something that got Cross before, then I'm sure it must be connected to that boy."

He heard them start to walk further away, their footsteps becoming lighter with each step. Cross barely caught the soft thank you muttered by Amaranta before they turned a corner and started ascending the nearest staircase. After waiting a good twenty minutes, he made his way out of the broom closet. The Thing flew out of his pocket and looked about. Deciding that the coast was clear, they set off in the opposite direction and didn't stop until they reached his room.

** So there we have it. Scandal! Revelation! Emotions! And an akuma who was once called Allen. What shall befall our little crew next as they move forward with their plans? We'll just have to wait and find out. Please review!**


	22. Chapter 22: Panis Angelicus

**I'll start on this while my beta is too busy writing her Doctor Who fic. XD Thanks for letting me know about that, Polka-Dotted Sock! :( Thanks to ilikedan, TooLazyToLogin, WillowC1, Kuraun Kuraun, and LightMyBulb for reviewing. Also, thanks to DemonicPride2001 for adding this story to their favorites, Kaite1211 for reviewing and adding this story to her alerts list, popo623 for the review and adding this to her favorites and alerts list, and dreamcatcher-fluffysama for reviewing and adding this story to her favorites and alerts lists, too! I'm also going to stick in a callout to my beta, the Polka-Dotted Sock. For all you Whovians out there, she has a story titled _It Can Come Back_. I highly recommend checking it out. It's fantastic!**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize from the D. Gray-man manga belong to Katsura Hoshino. They're just my play things right now. :)**

**Part Twenty-Two: Panis Angelicus**

"_Oh, miraculous thing!  
This body of God will nourish  
Even the poorest,  
The most humble of servants_."

_Sacris Solemniis_, Saint Thomas Aquinas

The others seemed to be just as grumpy as he was about the meeting. They might be practically immortal beings, but they could still feel exhaustion. With all the Earl had the Clan of Noah doing now- the war games, the raids on innocent villages, the infiltration into circles of the elite- it was little surprise for Neah to see his relatives so worn out. He was probably the best of the lot since he hadn't been called up by the Earl for the last two days. Neah always became slightly anxious in these cases, for the Earl did like to keep him close when at all possible. He had been more lenient earlier on in the year, but now his grip was tightening. Family meetings were called more often, giving him less free time to sneak off to Rome with Sanjiv. Because of this Bookman told him to just leave his apprentice there with the others during their last trip. The old geezer really hated gaps in information and with their excursion down south coming up soon, there was apparently a lot to take down.

It had been during one of these drop-off sessions that he'd received the summons. After leaving Sanjiv in the darkened row house with Allen, Sophia, and Mana, Neah made his way back to the Ark. Like always, they met in the dining room. It was a hall so large that you couldn't hope to see the ceiling or even the walls around you. Gas lanterns sat on the white table cloth casting little halos of light around them, just enough so that he could make his way to his seat by the Earl's right side. The Earl seemed to be fully awake unlike the sallow faced, sleepy-eyed Noah. Neah wondered if the man ever slept.

Road was the last to enter the room. She blushed furiously when she realized she was the only one to show up in her nightclothes. Uncle Sheril rolled his eyes upon seeing his young charge and motioned for her to sit down. Once she did, the Earl stood.

"Brothers and sisters," he began, "you may be questioning why I've brought you here tonight. I will say that it is not so unimportant that rest should come first."

Everyone looked sown the table to where Uncle Devit sat with his head down on the table, snoring loudly. Uncle Jasdero scowled and hit Uncle Devit upside the head, causing him to wake up. "Idiot," muttered Uncle Jasdero.

"As you've all been aware for the past two months we've been working extensively in the Americas. Things are on track in the northern continent, but a new issue has arisen in the southern continent. The Black Order recently dispatched General Elias Drakos to Rio de Janeiro to lead a clean-up of the city. It's a risk to our two centuries of work in that city, so we'll have to make a statement so that they'll know not to lay a hand on that city. Does anyone have a suggestion?"

"We could negotiate with the mayor of the city," stated Uncle Sheril. "Enough money should convince him to prevent the General from obtaining entry."

"Then he'll just land somewhere up the coast," retorted Uncle Maitora. "He'll get there in the end."

"Why don't we just send a swarm to some other place in the Americas like Canada?" asked Aunt Lulubell. "A big enough distraction should keep them from sending him to Rio."

"They'll still send someone else, then," replied Uncle Tykki. He took a swig from his champagne. "And it won't be some trainee. Just last week I lost ten Level Ones to some sword wielding exorcist who replaces General Yeegar."

Neah cursed that the exorcist, who must have been Khanna, didn't discover his uncle at that scene. He wasn't fond of the Indian exorcist, but if there were any exorcist out there with a slight chance of defeating a fully grown Noah, it would probably be Indivar Khanna. Then he would have only had to worry about twelve very distraught and distracted members of his family. Perhaps next time he'd be lucky and some more foolish member of the family- like Uncle Jasdero- would be discovered and destroyed.

"What do you think, Neah?" inquired the Earl. Everyone at the table looked at him, waiting to hear what the Earl's favorite had to say about this situation. As much damage as Aunt Lulubell's strategy would cause, it was obviously the better one in this situation. He'd just have to be willing to deal with whatever moral implications this action would have later. "Well I think-" he began, drawing his words out to stall for time.

It had been a bad choice. "Let's just kill the general!" declared Uncle Skinn, slamming his fist down on the table. The only good thing about this situation was that Neah was temporarily off the hook. All eyes were now on Uncle Skinn who only glared back at the rest of the Clan. "I'm damn tired of hearing about the exorcists and their damn Innocence. Let's just _do something_ for once!"

Uncle Jasdero and Uncle Devit looked at each other and burst out laughing. The others joined in with more stifled, awkward laughs. Uncle Sheril straightened the collar of his shirt. "I'm not sure that's the most… civil thing to do."

"We're the Clan of Noah," retorted Uncle Tykki still sloshing his champagne around in his glass. "I never saw anything in our description saying that we are civil."

"But what if we were to be caught?" questioned Uncle Toraido.

"Why would one of us be caught?" asked Road.

"Well, an akuma wouldn't be able to kill a general," explained Uncle Maashiima, folding his hands in front of him. "It would have to be an assassination, so one of us would have to go. In the event that person fails, then the Black Order would most likely be able to trace the assassin back to us."

"Oh," said Road with a pout. "I'm not going, then."

"This will never work," grumbled Aunt Lulubell. She looked at the ceiling with her bored, golden eyes.

As the others began to nod in agreement, Neah became certain that this debate was over. However, when he looked over at the Earl, he could tell he had other plans. "I wouldn't say never," stated the Earl. He grinned maniacally at Uncle Skinn. "Kill a general, you say? It's an absolutely crazy idea. Luckily for us, the Black Order only considers rational ideas when making plans. This is so mad that it just might work."

For once, Uncle Skinn appeared quite pleased with himself. The others muttered amongst themselves giving both the Earl and Uncle Skinn wary looks. "But, my lord," countered Uncle Sheril, "we've spent all this time- the past forty years, for goodness sake- building our reputation as a well-to-do, upstanding family. This would certainly be too great of a risk. Only you could pull of the feat of killing a general, but you are far too busy to plan let alone carry out an assassination. I beg of you to reconsider."

"Oh, you don't need me to plan this out," chuckled the Earl. "I've got someone clever in mind for that."

Neah felt spiders crawling up his back. He had a bad feeling about who this clever person could be. It was moments like these where he wished that he were a bit craftier like his brother Mana. Hardly anyone suspected that the juggler was intelligent because Mana did such a damn good job of hiding the fact. Someday Neah would have to learn to take a leaf out of his brother's book.

"You really think that Neah could figure this whole thing out?" inquired Uncle Maitora in disbelief.

"He has planned over half of the missions from the past month," argued Uncle Toraido. "If the Earl can't devote his attention to it, then we might as well let Neah plan it."

The Earl looked over at his favorite Noah. "What do you say, Neah?" questioned the Earl.

His Inner Noah rejoiced at being asked this question, egging him on to take this opportunity before the Earl changed his mind. The entire world seemed to stop except for the venomous words running through his head wishing death to the general, death to the Clan, and most of all death to the Millennium Earl. He pushed these persistent thoughts out of his head and began to think. Honestly, he didn't really care about this General Drakos, but he himself didn't wish for the man's early demise. It would be difficult, but he could play the too inexperienced card and hope that the Earl gave up. Unfortunately, the wild gleam in the Earl's eyes meant that the man was determined that the general would die. If it wasn't Neah who planned it, then the Earl would just ask somebody else. All he could do was stall for time and think of a better solution to this problem. Neah took in a calming, deep breath and stared back into the Earl's beady golden eyes. "Give me a month," he replied. "I'll have the plans for you then."

With that said, the meeting adjourned. Everyone whispered excitedly amongst themselves, wondering just what the Noah of Destruction would plan for General Drakos' demise. Neah went to his room before Road could even think to find him. For once the desire to play the piano did not overtake him. He sat there for the rest of the night staring down at his hands shaking in his lap.

oOo

If he wasn't so jumpy at the moment, Mana Walker would really enjoy looking around the city of Naples. Just like in Venice and Rome he could feel the ancient beauty speak out to him as he walked with his suitcase through the crowded streets. To his dismay it seemed like the whole of the Italian peninsula had congregated in the city, unknowingly waiting for the spectacle that would occur later today- a spectacle that had nothing to do with his now perfected acrobatic clown act.

When Neah had said that he wanted to convert akuma, Mana thought that it would be one. However, one was not good enough for his little brother. So here they were in Naples with the objective to either take over or destroy a factory full of akuma. It was a steel factory belonging to a gentleman named Signor Doriano Bianchi. He was a young man who knew very little about the outside world due to his aristocratic upbringing. His estate and position in society were all handed to him from birth. The only thing he could claim as his own was his skill in painting. In short, he was very much like Neah. Of course, his brother did not want to admit it, saying that the personal life of Doriano Bianchi was of little importance.

It was a simple plan: Cross, Sophia, and Neah would sneak into the factory, find the akuma, and get to work. Sanjiv and the kid- Allen, he had to keep reminding himself to call the kid by his name- were in charge of running the wireless radio Cross had swiped from the Black Order last week. The radio was a rather nifty device that was, of course, not yet available to the public. Cross said that it was just like the voice transmitter that he'd brought over when in the early stages of developing the Thing, except the electromagnetic waves were transmitted through the open air instead of through wires. Mana wasn't quite certain that he understood it, but he seemed to have a better grasp on it than Neah, Sophia, or Allen. His part in the plan was the simplest: Mana was the lookout.

He chose a clear spot in front of the Church of San Francesco di Paola. People gave him odd looks as they walked past, some even scoffed and stormed angrily past. He supposed they thought it was sacrilegious for a clown to be performing in front of a church, but he personally thought it was rather hypocritical to think that _he_ was the sacrilegious on. The church looked like the Pantheon in Rome, so it would be more of an insult to the Roman gods than to God in that case. Plus, it was in the Piazza del Plebiscito- the one main square that absolutely everyone in the city had to pass by during the day. If anyone from the Order or- God forbid- the Clan of Noah were to show up in the city he would know and have ample time to warn everyone else.

His hands shook a bit as he tossed juggling balls into the air, but he still managed to catch them. Mana realized that he had to calm down. Now was not the time to be frightened and turn tail. If it were only him, then he would undoubtedly run away, not because he was a coward, but rather that he knew when to avoid a fight. But today, he had his brother and his friends depending on him. He couldn't afford to be afraid. With that thought in mind, he caught all three balls with a flourish and gave a graceful bow. While his small audience applauded he took the moment to turn on the transmitter connected to his hat. It wouldn't hurt to be safe.

oOo

They arrived at the gates of Bagnoli without any incident. Already there was a long line of men at the front gate either gaining entrance by showing their employment papers or shouting and waving at the foreman outside. It was rather clownish seeing them harrassing the foreman in a vain attempt to gain employment for the day, but Cross had seen worse. Neah's nose wrinkled a bit as he watched the dirty faced men shaking the bars of the gate. Of course, the young lord didn't look much better himself. They had actually convinced him to smear some dirt onto his clothes, hands, and face to better look the part of a teenage boy looking for employment. Sophia was once again dressed like a little boy since the mill wouldn't hire girls. Hopefully the foreman wouldn't notice, but if he did then she was to stay outside as a second look out. Her absence, though, would make everything much more dangerous. He wasn't sure how many akuma were actually hidden inside this factory or whether they were active.

Cross stopped about twenty meters from the front gate and turned to talk to Sophia and Neah. "You both have your radio bits, correct?" he inquired.

Sophia pulled out the pendent of the Virgin Mary from her shirt. He'd attached a transmitter to a flattened metal disk and gave it to her to wear on the chain with the pendent. Neah pulled off the fake pair of glasses and looked at the side where the transmitter sat, yet another element of his disguise. "Yes," they both said.

He pulled his transmitter out as well. Cross wondered if Dr. de Orta would be more impressed or horrified if the old scientist found out that he had turned a rosary into a voice transmitter. "Let's test them before we go in," he said. "Sanjiv-"

"I'm here," stated the young Bookman over the air. "So is Allen."

"How come I didn't get a transmitter?" whined the akuma.

"We agreed on one for each position, except for the people going into the factory," grumbled Neah. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "So stop whining about this."

Allen grumbled, but didn't otherwise protest. "I'll take this as you can hear both me and Neah," replied Cross.

"Yes," responded Sanjiv. "How about-"

"Did I miss anything?" questioned Mana rather loudly.

"No," said Cross. "We're just testing the transmitters right now."

"Might I ask that you talk a little less loudly?" asked Sanjiv. "I'd like to keep my hearing."

"Oh, sorry," chortled Mana as he lowered the volume of his voice. "I was afraid these things wouldn't work."

"Well they do," retorted Neah, rolling his eyes. He placed the glasses back onto his face. "Can we get going now?"

"We haven't finished the transmitter tests yet," snapped Cross, smacking Neah on the arm. "Sophia."

"Hello?" she inquired, holding the transmitter close to her mouth. Unlike Mana, she didn't shout at the top of her lungs. Her voice came out almost like a whisper that seemed to dissipate into the noisy air.

"I can hear you, Sophia," replied Sanjiv. "I suggest that you speak a bit louder, though. You're going into a mill, so there will be plenty of noise to cover your voice."

"Right," she stated a bit more confidently. "Shall we go then?"

Neah looked at the line at the front gate, his eyes focusing on the dark, smoky factory. "Yes," declared Neah. He strode purposefully towards the gate. "Let's go."

Cross and Sophia jogged in order to catch up with the young Noah. They joined the back of the line and pulled out the forged work papers. He still wasn't sure how Neah convinced Bookman to sign the documents. It seemed a bit counter intuitive to the whole unbiased aspect of being a Bookman. When they reached the front of the line, the foreman looked at their papers and then at them. He was a very muscular man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a tangled mass of facial hair that Cross supposed was mutton chops. If he ever grew facial hair in the future, it would never be mutton chops. They just looked ridiculous.

"Just starting today, are you?" questioned the foreman. All three of them nodded and mumbled a brief word of ascension. "Alright then, go into the front room and get your assignment from Signor Bonaducci."

With that said the foreman stepped aside and let them into the factory grounds. The closer they came to the factory, the thicker and darker the air became around them. Cross noticed that his shirt was already becoming a light gray color from all the soot raining out of the sky. As soon as they walked into the doors they sidestepped the line and ducked down a corridor. Neah looked around to make sure that nobody was listening. "We're inside," he said quietly.

"Good," replied Sanjiv. "The sound quality is still fine. Not quite as clear as before, but that's to be expected since you're inside."

"Thanks for the update, Sanjiv," responded Cross. "Is it on to the next phase, then?"

"Yes," stated Neah. He took on an air of command. "Sophia, you take this corridor all the way back to the first warehouse. Cross, you go through the blaster room to the second warehouse."

"Of course I have to go through the most fucking dangerous room in the factory," he muttered.

Neah glared at him. "I'm going through the shipping dock to the third warehouse," he sniffed. "That means that I have to sneak past just about everyone working here today. Do you think you're capable of that?"

Cross wanted to remind Neah that it was Mana and him who were virtually untraceable to all of their enemies. However, now was not a good time to argue. It would be too risky to start a feud with Neah in the middle of his scheme. "Never mind," he grumbled.

Neah seemed satisfied with this, and turned to return to the main corridor. "Put a message through to me when you two reach your locations," he said. With a wave of his hand over his head, he left his two companions.

Sophia set her gaze on the end of the corridor. Cross put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn around to face him. "What is it?" she asked.

He didn't really know exactly why he'd done that. Cross felt the muscles in his back tense. "Do you remember where to go?" he inquired. He felt very foolish immediately afterward.

Sophia rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "I walk to the end of this corridor, turn left at the first branch, and then take the door at the end of the hall," she responded. Sophia looked at his hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure that you're alright? You seem more uneasy than even I am."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he quipped. "Be careful."

"I will be!" she replied. Sophia then darted down the corridor.

Cross watched her for a bit and then turned and walked out to the main corridor. He used all the noise from the shuffling workers to try and clear his muddled mind. It wouldn't do him any good to be distracted. Soon he reached a fork in the hallway. The workers split into two groups here. One group went to the left, which led to the main section of the factory where the steel would be poured into molds. The other group went to the right to the blaster room. He joined this group and walked further into factory. Some of the workers looked at him as if he were some kind of abnormality. He supposed it stemmed from the fact that he wasn't burly, hairy, sweaty, and shirtless like the rest of them. Cross avoided looking at them, hoping that they'd stop staring.

When he walked into the blaster room, he walked over to a table like the other workers and received a pair of black industrial gloves. He pulled them on even though he would have rather left them out. It was hot as hellfire in this room. The workers down by the blasters looked like demons dancing around a fiery pit. Smoke and soot hovered over them like a thick blanket. It made the hazy blue cigarette smoke in the Science Department in Headquarters almost seem friendly. Bursts of flame rose from the mouth of the blaster, beckoning all the workers to come towards it. It was a wonder that none of them fell into it, for there were no guardrails blocking it off. Cross turned away from the blaster and began making his way carefully through the room. He ducked his head as a large crate swung over his head. A man nearby him shook his fist at the workers pulling on the rope to guide the crate, telling them to watch it.

He had to back up when a little flame spat out at him. It almost latched onto his rosary transmitter, but it sputtered out before it could eat away hungrily at the dark wood. Cross then adjusted the rosary to tuck it into his shirt. It wouldn't do any good to have it destroyed before reaching the warehouse.

"Hey, is anyone still listening right now?" asked Mana quietly.

"Yeah," muttered Cross. He hoped that whatever Mana had to say was pretty damn important. No one else responded. "This is Cross."

"Well, uh, I just wanted to say that you guys should play it safe," he mumbled. Cross could imagine his friend's face turning slightly red as he said this. "I wouldn't want any of you guys to get hurt or anything. Also, could you keep an eye out for Neah? He tends to do stupid stuff."

"Alright," he grumbled. "No need to get your pants in a knot. I'll keep an eye out for your idiot brother and the others."

Mana seemed to chuckle a bit. "Thanks, Cross," he said. "It really means a lot."

"Right, right," he stated. Cross tucked the rosary inside his shirt and then exited on the far side of the blaster room.

oOo

He'd seen worse cafes when travelling with Bookman. Sure, the floors looked like they hadn't been washed for the last ten years and the tea was lukewarm, but it was completely empty except for the woman who ran the place. After observing the kid and him for a few minutes she went into the kitchen without a word. It seemed like she trusted them alone out in the front.

That was when he set up the electromagnetic transceiver on the table. It looked like a tin lunch pail on the outside, but inside there were several dozen knobs controlling the volume and frequency of the sound waves. He set the transceiver to channel fourteen like Cross had told him to do upon arriving in the city. From his recollection the factory should fall into the range covered by this wavelength. That seemed to be the case for only a few moments later did Cross first contact him.

"Sanjiv-" said Cross' voice. Sanjiv's eyes turned to the right to where his transmitter was located: a stud earring in his right ear. Mana and the kid had found it hysterical when he'd explained that every person in the Bookman Clan had their ears pierced when they were young. He'd never thought it was funny: it was just one of the markings of being part of the clan. Sanjiv hadn't even known that most men didn't have their ears pierced until he'd travelled to Europe with Bookman.

"I'm here," replied the young Bookman. He adjusted the volume settings for his transmitter. "So is Allen."

"How come I didn't get a transmitter?" pouted the akuma, crossing his arms indignantly in from of his chest.

"We agreed on one for each position, except for the people going into the factory," grumbled Neah. The young Noah sounded just as stressed out as he had this morning when they left their respective inns. He'd roomed at a place close to the café with Neah and the kid. Mana, Cross, and Sophia had been at another place three blocks away. It had been one of many safety precautions they had taken in case if someone from the Clan of Noah tried to contact Neah. There was hardly anything suspicious about him meeting up with the Bookman's apprentice or an akuma. They'd just think that Neah was up to some kind of mischief. "So stop whining about this."

'Allen' grumbled, but didn't otherwise protest. "I'll take this as you can hear both me and Neah," replied Cross.

"Yes," responded Sanjiv. He finished adjusting the dials for Neah's transmitter. Satisfied with his work, he decided to move on. "How about-"

"Did I miss anything?" questioned Mana rather loudly. Sanjiv almost jumped at his chair but settled for gripping the edge of the table. He almost missed the sound of the kid falling out of his own chair since his ears were now ringing loudly.

"No," said Cross. "We're just testing the transmitters right now."

"Might I ask that you talk a little less loudly?" asked Sanjiv. He rubbed his temples as he tried to regain his equilibrium. "I'd like to keep my hearing."

"Oh, sorry," chortled Mana as he lowered the volume of his voice. "I was afraid these things wouldn't work."

"Well they do," retorted Neah.

"We haven't finished the transmitter tests yet," snapped Cross. "Sophia."

"Hello?" she inquired. Her voice was a relief after Mana's shouting. It sounded very much like the day he had met her at Walker Manor. He'd been settling into one of the guest bedrooms when she'd knocked at the door asking if he wanted tea. Back then she hadn't made eye contact with him or anyone for that matter. Meeting her had made him realize that there were many more ghostly figures in the world than the Bookmen.

"I can hear you, Sophia," replied Sanjiv. He turned the volume knob for her transmitter up. "I suggest that you speak a bit louder, though. You're going into a mill, so there will be plenty of noise to cover your voice."

"Right," she stated a bit more loudly. "Shall we go then?"

"Yes," declared Neah. He strode purposefully towards the gate. "Let's go."  
So that was all of them. It didn't take long for Neah, Cross, and Sophia to get inside the factory. Sanjiv didn't hear anything more after Neah gave out the marching orders. He wrote down the last bits of the conversation down and then settled back into his chair. Unless Mana spotted anything then they were going to have a long wait. The kid looked positively bored sitting at the table. He sat with his head down on the table causing his brown hair to fan out in a small halo. His feet thumped against the legs of the table and his rickety wooden chair.

"How long is it going to take for them to get to the warehouse?" he groaned.

"As long as they need," replied the young Bookman. Out of boredom he took out a piece of charcoal and began sketching the akuma kid. He was a fair artist according to Sophia and Neah. Most of the time his sketches were only for reference to something he'd written about in his log, but there were a few scattered drawings of towns and more recently his housemates. He'd probably have to tear this one out once he was done. Bookman didn't seem to appreciate when more than one sketch of a person appeared in his log. This drawing would be doomed to lurk among the dark recesses of the bottom of his bag along with at least a dozen other sketches.

"But that's boring," moaned the kid. He opened one eye to look up at Sanjiv. "They didn't give me anything to do besides sit here and listen to your stupid jewelry."

For a moment, Sanjiv almost had the urge to smack the kid. He'd gotten enough grief from Mana about his ears earlier. "It's Neah's plan," he responded. "If you have a problem with it, then talk to him about it later."

They sat there for awhile in silence, Sanjiv sketching while the kid kept his head buried in his arms. The light coming in from the window by their table gave the sketch a nice lighting effect. When he finished with the shading he had a pretty good drawing of the kid. He carefully pulled the page out of his log and stored it at the bottom of his bag.

The transceiver emitted a bit more sound, this time coming from Mana and Cross. He hurriedly wrote down the short conversation, although it really had nothing to do with the mission. However, Bookman would never forgive him if he missed one detail in his log. The old geezer was still pretty sore about the fact that he was unavailable to come with them to Naples. The Earl was having a meeting with some politician in Bohemia, so Bookman had also travelled there. Sanjiv didn't need any other reason to piss off his mentor.

"I still think that Neah should have let me be the lookout," said the kid. "Mana is too worried about him and everything else to focus."

He had to hand it to the kid, for that was a pretty good observation. "Don't forget that Mana is a juggler and an acrobat by profession," the young Bookman added. "He's accustomed to focusing on many things at once."

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled the kid. He burrowed his head further into his arms. "It still does no good worrying too much about your brother."

"I suppose you're speaking from experience," remarked Sanjiv, latching onto that last comment. Considering they still had some time, it wouldn't hurt to learn a bit more about the kid if possible.

The kid tensed up for a bit and then relaxed. "Yeah," he replied as he lifted his head from the table. "I had a little brother once."

"Once?" questioned Sanjiv. He flipped to a fresh page in his log and started an entry.  
The kid glowered at his pen for a bit, but then gave up. "Well, you can't be two people in one body," commented the kid. "My brother, Allen, was the one who made me into an akuma."

"I see," stated Sanjiv. It was a bit odd talking about this, for it really highlighted the fact that he was talking to a deceased soul masquerading about in another's skin. "Allen was your little brother. Why do you use his name?"

'Allen' shifted in his seat nervously. "Well, it doesn't feel right to go by any name," he muttered. "I'm in his body."

"Right," said Sanjiv. He continued writing as he spoke. "What did you go by, then, when you were living?"

Allen screwed up his face in thought for a while. "I can't remember anymore," he sighed in defeat. He leaned his head into his hands. "It's been so long since I, well, died. I don't even have a grave to go back and check."

"No family either?" asked Sanjiv.

"None," said Allen. "My parents died when my brother and I were very young. We lived on the streets of London after that. Most of the time Allen just called me 'big brother.' Everyone else just ignored us or called us little vermin."

Sanjiv could imagine how Mana would begin to cry and squeeze the life out of the kid if he ever heard that last bit. He pushed that distracting image out of his mind and returned to his current thread of conversation. "How did a young vagabond like you end up becoming a Level Two akuma?"

"You just don't stop asking questions, do you?" retorted Allen. He gave a slight scowl and then shrugged his shoulders. "If it will get you to shut up, then I'll tell you. Just don't tell anyone else about it. I don't need anyone giving me stupid pity looks."

"No one else will see this besides the old geezer," replied Sanjiv. "I doubt that he'll ever tell anyone about you. It doesn't seem like anything that would interest the Clan of Noah."

The kid sat up straight in his chair. "Didn't think I'd be interviewed today," he muttered under his breath. Allen then looked the young Bookman straight in the eye. "But why me, though? I haven't seen you interview the others like this."

He didn't exactly know how to explain why to the kid. Allen didn't seem like the type who would understand the importance of his existence to the hidden history of the world. "You happen to be here right now," responded Sanjiv, "and I just happen to think that you're one of the most fascinating beings on the face of the planet."

oOo

She was very grateful that Neah hadn't sent her off down one of the main corridors. The farther she travelled in the factory the smaller Sophia felt. It didn't help her feel any more secure at the moment. Sure, she had told Cross that she'd be fine. She probably would be. It was just that she was alone right now, and it was only when she was alone that she'd think about how scared she felt. She'd gotten better about being scared over the last half year. Her movements were less reserved, she didn't shake quite as much, and she was able to face Neah without looking at the floor.

Sophia reached the end of the first corridor and peaked around the corner. There was no one in sight, so she straightened the brown cotton jacket she wore and continued sneaking through the factory. She was very glad for everything Mana and Sanjiv had taught her in preparation for this day. It made her feel a bit better about the whole plan.

She tucked a loose strand of curly black hair behind her ear. Luckily it didn't disturb the cap on her head that hid the rest of her long hair. Sophia had asked Cross to cut it, but he'd refused much to her displeasure. The other boys had refused as well when she asked. Neah had said it would hurt their performance business while Mana gave the excuse that boys could have long hair, too. She supposed he was right, after all his hair was longer than hers. In the end, someone procured a hair tie and they came up with the stupid solution of having her stuff all her hair into a hat. Perhaps if she were as vain about her hair as Road she would have been thanking them a thousand times over, but Sophia wasn't pleased for her head was hot and itchy because she couldn't get a bloody haircut.

It was just another thing to add to her laundry list of things she was strangely not allowed to do anymore. She guessed that Mana and Neah were just trying to be nice by helping out with the errands. Still, when it was her turn to shop for groceries someone would _always_ accompany her. Then there had been the whole incident with the bills, but thanks to Cross she'd finally won that argument. Everything was still odd compared to her childhood. She was used to the scorn that had usually accompanied her name. Sophia Maria. Because of the Camelots she had grown to hate it, but whenever she'd go to the Walkers it would be okay for, to Rhian and Cross, she had just been Sophia. If only she were still just Sophia. After living in Rome for so long she knew that something had changed, that they all thought she was special because she was a girl. She did not need to be patronized. For ten years she labored as a servant in possibly the most brutal household in the entire world, carrying things twice her size from the time she was five years old. Sophia knew how to take care of herself. She smiled to herself as she reached the door at the end of the hall. Cross and Neah would probably be surprised that she had reached her post first.

Sophia tested the door handle and found that it was unlocked. Quietly she opened the door and ducked inside the warehouse. From the first glance, she didn't see anything that looked suspicious. Of course, there were hundreds of large wooden crates that could easily be the bed of a dormant akuma, but she would have to come up with a better strategy than just opening crates and peeking inside. She didn't want to have her head blown off.

She focused on her Innocence, trying to get 'in synch' as Cross had called it. Her skills were far from perfect, but she was confident enough that she could form a slight connection, one that would be just strong enough to alert her to the presence of the akuma virus. She was very familiar with the feeling akuma gave off since Allen often followed her around the house. Sophia began to feel the resonance of a connection forming.

That was the moment when she felt it. It was something very dark, but not an akuma. Her head began to throb, so she broke off the synchronization before she could lose control. She hadn't felt that kind of pain before when synchronizing, so at first she thought that it might be something wrong with her. However, when she thought more about it she realized that she had felt something quite like it before. It had not been nearly as bad as today, but the day when Neah lost control of his Inner Noah she had felt a similar malevolence. She thought about attempting to synchronize again in order to trace the presence back to its source, but she realized it wouldn't be necessary. There were three sets of footsteps coming closer and closer to the door behind her.

Hurriedly she ducked behind the nearest row of crates. The door to the warehouse swung open and the three strangers walked inside. They were quiet until one of them shut the door.

"It is an honor to have you here today," said an unfamiliar tenor. He was speaking very good English, although she could detect the slight hint of an Italian accent. "Might I ask what brings you here today?"

"Oh, it is just business, Signor Bianchi," drawled a familiar baritone. It was a voice that drove chills up her spine. He might not be as bad as his brother or his brother's ward, but Tykki Mikk had always managed to frighten Sophia.

"Yes," affirmed a third voice, this one the deepest out of the three. Sophia was familiar with this voice as well: Fiidora. If the man were not a Noah, then she would have thought he were just some bizarre crony. His Noah power- his 'gift' as he liked to call it- involved parasites that he carried around on his tongue. He'd threatened both her and Cross with them when they were little. She'd seen him use them once on a man who used to be a contact for the Earl. Apparently an exorcist from the European Branch had discovered his allegiance, so he came begging for protection. It was just his bad luck that Fiidora had answered the door. The Noah of Corrosion had dragged the man down into the basement of Camelot Manor and infected the man with just one of his parasites. For months the man lay down in the darkest corner of his new prison, crying in terrible pain. Since she was always waiting on Road, Sophia hadn't been able to do anything about it. Every night from her room behind the kitchen she could hear the man scream. One day, though, it had stopped. Later that afternoon as she stood holding a parasol over Road's head as the Noah of Dreams played on a blanket with her dolls, Sophia had seen Sheril dump a large tin of ashes into the creek. That was when she'd been certain that the man had died. "We want to have a chat with Signor Bonaducci. Could you send him our way?"

"Of course," responded Doriano Bianchi. He opened the door of the warehouse again. "Wouldn't you prefer to meet him in his office, though?"

"No, no," chortled Tykki Mikk. "This room will be fine."

They were in serious trouble. In all of Neah's plans they'd discussed the slight possibility of a member of the Clan of Noah coming to Naples, but they'd never considered them actually appearing _inside_ the factory. She was going to have to warn the others, but it would very difficult with those two in the warehouse.

"Is he gone?" asked Fiidora. She heard him walk in the opposite direction of her hiding place.

"Yes," replied Tykki Mikk. She heard him take out a cigarette and his lighter. "That idiot won't show up again."

"What an ass-kissing ninny," chuckled Fiidora. "He didn't even ask why we wanted to talk to Signor Bonaducci. Should you be smoking in here?"

"I don't see why not," sniffed Tykki Mikk. "There's nothing flammable in here besides the boxes."

"I'm talking about what's inside the boxes," emphasized Fiidora. She heard him pat one of the boxes. "The Earl has been waiting for this new oil for months. Just put your damn cigarette out."

As they continued to argue about Tykki's smoking habit, Sophia took the chance to pull out her transmitter. "Hey everyone, we have a problem," she stated quietly. "Some unwanted company arrived in warehouse one. What should I do?"

The other end was completely silent. Sophia waited for a minute, then five. Once ten minutes had passed she finally felt the panic rising up within her. Luckily Tykki Mikk and Fiidora were still talking very loudly, so she began speaking again. "Neah? Mana? Sanjiv? Cross? Is anybody there?"

**I have to apologize for taking so long with this chapter. I meant to finish this ages ago, but then, well, school happened and I totally revised this chapter. Much different than what I originally planned out. Luckily, I'm caught up in school, so hopefully the next part won't take nearly as long. Please review!**


	23. Chapter 23: Tantum Ergo

**Alright, so moving forward! Thanks to WillowC1 for the review and favorite! Also thanks to MysticalNyla for the review, adding this story to her favorites list, and alerting the story. Finally thanks to ilikedan for the review!**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to D. Gray-man or anything related to it. If I did, then Tim wouldn't be SPOILERS!**

**Part Twenty-Three: Tantum Ergo**

"_Lo! o'er ancient forms departing_

_Newer rites of grace prevail;_

_Faith for all defects supplying,_

_Where the feeble senses fail."_

St. Thomas Aquinas, _Pange Lingua_

Neah had always known that his life was vastly different from that of the common majority. He'd seen snippets of it while travelling along country roads in a coach, looking out to see people plowing fields or cutting long grass with a scythe. It was also present in the unlit hallways where servants hid during masquerades and fancy dinners. Yes, he was accustomed to the finer things in life and had come to accept that in this aspect Fate had smiled upon him favorably. Only when he'd broken out of this bubble did he come to see how the other half lived, what real life was like. He didn't count flitting about in fancy fabric and schmoozing with the elite as real. Aristocrats only knew how to make things look pretty. They, like the Millennium Earl, were always lying through their teeth.

Real life was on the streets where people argued over the price of food. It was in the crowded pub in the middle of the night where old men would quietly chat about their troubles over a pint of beer. But most of all it was here in this steel factory. The sounds, the smell, the sites, the feel of it hit him in unrelenting waves of desperate, filthy reality. He paused for a moment to breath in the heavy, sooty air. Despite the horribleness of it all, Neah wouldn't have the world any other way.

At first he just followed the mass of workers filing into the main room of the factory, but as soon as he was inside the doors he ducked out of the line to sneak around the edge of the main room. There were already several men on the floor by the molds. They wore masks to keep the heat of the liquid metal from hitting their faces. Others were prying the beams out of the molds and inspecting them before motioning for other men to carry them away. Neah came across a staircase at the end of the molding station, so he took the opportunity to climb up to see if it would lead to a way past the other stations. Fortunately, it was not the observation deck, otherwise he would have had a lot of explaining to do to the foreman of this section of the factory. It appeared to be a overhead walkway where a few men who worked the pulley systems hung about. Currently there were about five men there all of them large fellows with a penchant for smoking. Neah would hazard to guess that they were all around their mid twenties, which was fairly average for the average factory worker. There was something, though, that was a bit off about them, so he determined it would be best to avoid them if at all possible.

As quietly as possible he began to walk along the overhead walkway in the opposite direction of the pulley operators. All the while he could catch snippets of their conversation. It was something about the boss and there being some kind of meeting today. He didn't really care what Doriano Bianchi could be doing with his ample amounts of free time, so Neah tuned out the rest. As he continued along the way he would occasionally come across other groups of pulley-operators huddled about shooting furtive glances at other groups. Now Neah's interest was starting to arouse, although not much. He had only one goal today, so gossiping workers looking around suspiciously were very low on his list of priorities. Besides, their behavior was starting to remind him of the noble women gossiping at parties, much to his disgust. Neah really hated parties.

When he reached the other end of the walkway he finally caught wind of a bit more useful gossip from a pair of somewhat older looking men who appeared to be taking a- probably uncalled for- break. They looked at Neah as he passed but paid him no mind after the young Noah began to descend the stairs. The men probably thought he couldn't hear them over the din of steel being poured or iron ore being sorted into piles of good and unusable bits. However, he was in a way superhuman and a musician, so he could hear quite well.

"Those Camorra are meeting friends of Doriano Bianchi today," muttered one man, a fair-haired fellow with what Neah would call a baby's face except that it was covered in scars. He pulled out a sandwich with worn looking hands and split it, passing the second half to the other man. The second man had very dark, curly hair and a coarse beard. As he took a bite from the sandwich little crumbs got caught in his beard.

"Do they think they can get the upper hand on us that way?" inquired the dark-haired man. He snorted, causing bits of sandwich to fly out of his mouth. Neah did his best to avoid the flying, half-eaten pieces. Factory workers were certainly disgusting. "We already have fifty men working in this factory. Fifty! It will take more than a couple of British bastards to stop us!"

Neah stopped descending the stairs to listen more carefully to their conversation. He was a bit curious as to whom Doriano Bianchi's British friends could be, but he was a bit more preoccupied with these two men, two men who were obviously members of the Cosa Nostra. He'd known that Naples had a reputation for not only great literature and music, but also crime. The young Noah, however, had not been expecting to find a branch of the Cosa Nostra in the middle of Camorra territory. He was surprised that these men were even alive at this moment, for the Camorra practically ran the city. Hardly anything passed by them unnoticed. That was, anything besides the secret war between the Millennium Earl and humanity. The Earl had done business with the Camorra in the past, but he'd never explained to them that their joint business ventures would bring about their demise in the long run.

The fair-haired man jabbed his contemporary in the ribs. "Don't underestimate those Camorra," he hissed. "We don't need them noticing us now after all the care we took in maintaining low profiles. Besides, I don't want to catch those eyes. Did you see those two men?"

"They seemed to be your average elitist sons-of-bitches," commented the dark-haired fellow. He stuffed the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. "There was something a little odd about them, though. I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe we should just corner them outside and persuade them to talk."

"No," retorted the fair-haired man, his voice taking on a dark tone. "There's definitely something off about those bastards. I've seen a lot of weirdoes around here, but today is the first time I've ever seen anyone with golden eyes."

"So that wasn't my mind playing tricks on me?" asked the dark-haired man. He leaned in a bit closer. "They really did have golden eyes?"

"No doubt about it," replied the fair-haired one. "We need to send a runner to the boss with this bit of news. That new kid, Ricci, should be fine. Tell the others to lie low until we get word from him."

"Right," agreed the dark-haired man. With that the two middle-aged gang members parted ways.

Fortunately neither of the men came down the stairs to the spot where Neah now stood frozen. The young Noah gripped the metal rail of the stairs, his mind completely blank. He could feel his heart now beating erratically in his chest, his hands shaking, and his pupils dilating as a result of this bit of news. _They were here_. Neah hadn't thought that other Noah could possibly show up at the factory. He hadn't heard anyone mention Doriano Bianchi or a trip to Naples at the last family meeting. It was a terrifying twist in this already dangerous plot of his, enough to shake him to his inner core.

In spite of the impending horror now present, he felt exhilarated. There was a certain awful feeling of absolute glee that he could sense stirring in the pit of his stomach. It had been a while since he had felt like this, like he was ready to lash out at the world completely unrestrained. The last time he had gone through this sensation was the day he attacked Sophia and Sanjiv outside of Rome. His Inner Noah had remained rather silent for a long time after that incident, but now he could feel the beast lulling from its slumber in the recesses of his soul. For a brief moment a manic grin spread onto his face, but he soon schooled his countenance. Now was not the time to give into his Noah side. He was going to have to warn the others.

But then his plans would go to waste. A full half year of planning for this one day, all gone to waste just because of the presence of two other Noah. Neah clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He wanted to throw something to relieve this bout of anger, but he couldn't risk drawing attention right now.

The Inner Noah began to titter, "_This is pathetic. I know you. I can see the rage that you're feeling inside, having those bastards here just to mess up your plans._"

Neah turned on his heels and began to walk back up the stairs, trying very hard not to notice his now very vocal Inner Noah. He was going to have to alert the others to the change in the situation and get them out of the factory. It would be the right thing to do.

"_The right thing?_" laughed his Inner Noah. The voice in his head wheezed as it laughed harder. "_The right thing is to stop them, to continue with your plan! You know what they're trying to do. You know that they are a disgrace to the name of Noah. They're just a bunch of idiots being strung out like marionettes by the Millennium Earl, all for some impossible, selfish desire. Now turn around and keep going! They don't know that you are here, and they never have to find out."_

During this speech Neah had stopped walking up the stairs. He knew it was foolish to listen to the Inner Noah, for the only thing they'd ever agreed about was that the Millennium Earl had to be taken down. The Inner Noah was a monster, something so different from himself that was only set upon the destruction of the world. Yet the Inner Noah was also a human voice. It was the voice of a man long gone and turned to dust. Perhaps even the Inner Noah felt that what the Clan was attempting to do was wrong. Maybe it, too, had human emotions.

Neah turned around and ran down the stairs. He still had some time before it would become imperative to tell the others about the Inner Noah. Plus, if they were just meeting the Camorra, it was likely that it was just a business transaction. Whoever was representing the Clan of Noah would most likely stay in one room the entire time and leave as soon as they received what they'd come to retrieve. They would have no interest in seeking out possible intruders who weren't even connected to the Black Order.

Neah Walker dodged several other workers carrying large boxes between workbenches, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the foreman. Luckily the man either didn't notice him or didn't seem to care. He didn't notice the static in his ear as he exited the main room. If he had, then maybe he would have turned around.

oOo

Allen tried very hard to look displeased with his comment, but Sanjiv could see the young akuma glowing with pride. It had probably been a long time since anyone had last told the kid that he was important. He readied his pen as Allen took a deep breath. "Well, I think it was about seven years ago," began the akuma. "I lost track because, well, I didn't think that time mattered for me anymore. My brother and I had been living on the streets for about four years at that point."

"This was in London, correct?" asked Sanjiv. He wanted to be as accurate as possible, for he was certain that Bookman would want to read this entry.

"Yes," huffed the kid in annoyance. He leaned his head against his arm, but his elbow slid on the badly polished table, knocking into the radio. Allen righted the radio with a cheeky smile before continuing. "And before you ask, I don't remember where exactly it was in London. My brother and I moved all the time because the constables would've carted us off if we hadn't."

"Right," commented Sanjiv. It was a shame, but not entirely unexpected. Most of the people that Bookman took an interest in were wanderers who could only give him a vague sense of the area from whence they came. With the way the world was developing Sanjiv doubted that he'd meet many stationary people ever again. He looked up at the kid to show he was ready to go on.

Allen bit his lip before continuing. "Everything had been going fine. Sure, we didn't have a place to live or much to eat, but we were able to make it from one day to the next. Winter was generally a hard time, but sometimes cooks at big restaurants would be generous and give us extra scraps if we came to the back door. Plus, the gentry would come in from the countryside and when the gentry came there was always money."

"You were a pickpocket," stated Sanjiv, raising an eyebrow.

The kid rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, when you don't have many skills there really is nothing else that you can do," he retorted. "At first it was only keeping things that they dropped and selling it to a pawn shop. You wouldn't believe how much a clean handkerchief fetches! Then I started taking wallets 'cause the leather fetches even more than the handkerchiefs did. I never stole a wallet from a family, though. Only old wealthy men."

"Sounds like a lucrative business," remarked Sanjiv while flipping a page in his log. "I suppose between your brother and yourself you were doing pretty well."

Allen frowned. "I never told my brother that I was a pickpocket," said the akuma. "He believed that I worked for a rat catcher. Allen was too little to work at that time, so I'd leave him inside one of the pawn shops that I frequented. The lady who worked there was very fond of him, and her husband was lenient as long as I brought in a good hull. It could get kind of bad if there was a slow day. He threw us out for a week once because I didn't bring anything in one day. But he took us back, so it was all okay."

"How kind of him," quipped the young Bookman dryly. He still didn't understand from where the mentality of every man being for himself came. It seemed to be a new concept developing in the cities of Great Britain, while out in the villages people would take care of children even if they were not their own. Sanjiv could remember frequently staying in the homes of other member of the Bookmen when he was much younger.

"I know," responded the kid, rolling his eyes. "People are _so_ kind… only if you have something they want, though. As I was saying, we were fine. One day, however, I made a mistake."

"A mistake," repeated Sanjiv. "What kind of a mistake?"

"I stole a wallet belonging to a well-dressed gentleman who looked to be in his mid-fifties," explained Allen. He bit his lip again. "There must have been at least six hundred pounds inside. I thought that I'd hit the jackpot. The only odd part about it was that the wallet didn't belong to the gentleman. There was a family picture inside the wallet with a young couple and a baby. If I'd thought more about it back then, then maybe I would've thought about taking it to the police… But I didn't. Like always I took the money and sold the wallet to the owner of the pawn shop. That night I bought roasted chestnuts for my brother as a treat- I guess it must have been close to Christmas time. Anyhow there was suddenly a boy running down the street shouting that some people had been murdered. We went to check it out with everyone else on the street."

"That figures," muttered Sanjiv. People did seem to have an uncanny draw towards the grotesque. "Was it the people in that picture?"

"No," replied Allen. "It was the couple who owned the pawn shop. My brother started to cry, so I led him away from the scene. However, a constable stopped us on the way down the street because some lady had told him that she'd seen my brother hanging about. He wanted to ask him if we'd seen any suspicious characters hanging about the pawn shop that day. I allowed the officer to take him aside for questioning. While I was waiting, someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me off down a dark alleyway. I thought it might be a damn chimney sweep or a kidnapper, but the man was wearing gloves."

"It was the gentleman from earlier," said the young Bookman, again flipping a page.

A shocked look came over the kid's face. "How did you know?" questioned Allen.

"What other well-dressed gentleman would've dragged you off from a crime scene?" inquired Sanjiv. "He probably was a thief who murdered the man in the picture in order to get his wallet and whatever cash might be inside. But it wasn't just the man in that picture. He'd mugged several other people, thus accumulating six hundred pounds. However, you got in the way and stole the evidence of his crime. He knew the police would first check pawn shops for the dead man's wallet, so he had to get it back. The murderer followed you to the pawn shop and waited until the cover of darkness to murder the owner and his wife. He then retrieved the wallet and saw that everything inside had been taken out. That's when he went after you, right?"

"Yes," responded the kid, looking stunned. "He took me down to the banks of the Thames and then emptied my pockets. When he finished, he took out a knife. I could see the blood on the blade from the way the moonlight hit it. After that, things became very fuzzy. I think I tried to run away, but I didn't make it. The man killed me and dumped my body into the river."

"I see," replied Sanjiv. His hand shook a bit as he took the last part down. "How long do you suppose it had been before, well-"

"Before I was turned into an akuma?" inquired Allen. His eyes seemed to focus on the wall ahead of him. "It can't have been too long. I mean, my brother's body looks the same as it did the day I died. There was holly strung over doors and on lamp posts when I came to. I remember my brother just standing there and looking at me with tears in his eyes. He looked so happy. For a minute I thought I'd miraculously survived, but then I saw my hands. They were metallic and looked like blades attached to rod-like arms. Then I saw _him_."

"The Millennium Earl?" asked Sanjiv.

"Yes," said the kid, nodding vigorously. "He stood there smiling at me like some weird-ass clown. If my brother hadn't been there I would've thought that I'd landed in Hell. My brother started running up towards me, probably to give me a hug, but then the Millennium Earl ordered me to kill him. I couldn't even resist the order and not a minute later my brother lay dead on the ground, strangled by my own hands."

Allen stopped talking for a minute and quivered in his seat. For that brief moment, Sanjiv could see just how young and scared the kid probably felt both then and now. He decided to spare the kid from describing the process of putting his little brother's body on like it was any set of clothes. Bookman already had several dozen entries about people turning their loved ones into akuma. "So you were then an akuma?" questioned Sanjiv.

"Well, that's what the Millennium Earl told me after, well, the process was complete," stated Allen. "After checking to see that I was in working order he told me to venture out and kill as many humans as possible. So that's what I did. I first stayed in the area around London, but then I grew tired of the whole sneaking up on people in dark alleys routine. That's when I started travelling the world. It allowed me to follow the Earl's orders while also doing what I wanted to do. Sometimes I'd just stop in one town to check out a local festival and then move on to the next one and completely destroy it. In the back of my mind I thought that it was a bit weird, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to be sad. I suppose that's what it means to be an akuma. I saw the entirety of Europe by living this way. One time I even ventured all the way to the east coast of China. I really liked travelling because that way I could be alone and not always killing humans or being attacked by exorcists. It's the ones that stick around inhabited areas that die first. Most akuma don't seem to realize this because their desire to destroy overcomes any mental capacity they once possessed. That's probably the only reason that I remained sane that entire time."

"That seems like a logical explanation," admitted Sanjiv, writing down the last bits of the tale. "It was about ten months ago that you were caught by Neah and Sophia."

"That's right," stated Allen. "You know the rest of the story already. Well, the rest up to this point."

Sanjiv nodded in agreement and then turned to a fresh page. It wouldn't do to have the results of today's events running in with the kid's story. "What do you think about this all?" he inquired out of curiosity. The young Bookman was well aware that Allen had not been for Neah's plan in any aspect when they first met. He could clearly recall the akuma writhing in his spot tied up to a chair while cussing Neah out. However, Allen had become much less… violent, if that was the word for it. The kid didn't look at them all in suspicion as he once did, and the distance he'd once maintained from the group had slowly become negligible.

Sanjiv couldn't help but notice that it was the same for himself.

"Do you mean this whole infiltration plan?" asked Allen. He shrugged. "I've seen better infiltrations, but this one is pretty decent considering its Neah's first try. Oh, but you were probably thinking about why I'm still tagging along when there's nothing stopping me from standing up and walking out of this café. That's a bit harder to describe. I feel a drive to go outside and just kill everyone-"

"How pleasant," said Sanjiv under his breath.

"-but nothing would please me more than to see the Millennium Earl dead," explained the kid. There was a hard glint in his eyes- not the red sheen of an akuma- that spoke to the young Bookman of some inner spirit in the kid that had yet to be corrupted by the Dark Matter. "I might respond to him, but that doesn't mean that I'm happy as an akuma. It pisses me off thinking that the Earl believes he can just waltz around and toy with the souls of the dead. I don't think he has even truly seen the soul of an akuma. If he could, if everyone could, then maybe people would understand how an akuma truly feels. We follow the Earl, but it's a path full of pain. We walk along it hating him every step of the way."

Sanjiv contemplated this last bit. From what he could recall he couldn't remember any of the Clan of Noah mentioning the souls of akuma. He also had yet to read anything about the Order addressing this matter, too. It appeared as if both sides agreed on one fact: akuma were tools used by the Millennium Earl in his great war. This assumption was so very naïve and so very human. He could picture this conversation setting Bookman off on a speech about the selfish designs of humans and how these designs would eventually destroy them. The young Bookman wasn't certain if this would apply for all humans, though. Most of them weren't even aware of the existence of akuma.

He was broken out of his train of thought by the sound of static coming from the radio. Someone was trying to transmit a message but it wasn't getting through. Sanjiv began adjusting knobs and when this didn't work he opened the control panel. At first there didn't appear to be anything wrong but a second glance revealed to him a tiny loose wire. The young Bookman reached into the bag he'd used to carry the radio this morning and pulled out a small toolkit Cross had prepared for him. Within a minute he had procured a pair of tweezers and fixed the wire. The static became louder for a moment, so he adjusted a few knobs until it stopped. Finally he heard noise, a lot of noise. From what he could tell there were several men arguing in the background, but he couldn't ascertain the subject. Sanjiv heard something that sounded like the word 'money' and 'boss', so he supposed it was an argument over a transaction.

Allen leaned across the table to speak into the transceiver, but the young Bookman held up a hand to silence him. The kid huffed and leaned back into his seat. Hesitantly Sanjiv began to speak softly. "This is Sanjiv. Who is this?"

"Sanjiv!" exclaimed Sophia softly. She sounded a bit shaky and extremely relieved. "Thank God! I thought my transceiver had stopped working."

"No, it was just a problem with the main receiver," explained the young Bookman. He turned off the switches for the others. It wouldn't do them any good to be making extra noise while sneaking around. "What has happened? You sound a bit off."

"I've run into a problem in warehouse one," she whispered. Sanjiv turned up the volume on the radio so as to hear her better. "There's a member of the Camorra in here arguing with Tykki Mikk."

"Tykki Mikk is there?" asked Sanjiv. He didn't betray it in his face or in his voice, but for once he was completely shocked. Somehow a member of the Clan of Noah had snuck past all of Neah's preparations. His next question adhered to his training to obtain as much factual information as possible, but it was born much more out of concern. "Is anyone else there?"

"He brought Fiidora with him," she replied. "He's been looking around the place while Tykki negotiated with the Camorra representative. I've had to move a couple times, but I'm right next to a wall now. I don't know for how long I'll be able to avoid him."

The kid bit his lip and looked up at Sanjiv with big eyes full of concern. It was a very normal look for a child, but coming from an akuma it seemed totally bizarre. Sanjiv took a deep breath before speaking again. "Try to remain calm and keep moving if possible," he stated. "I turned off the other transmitters earlier, but I'm going to turn them on now."

"Alright," responded Sophia. The arguing in the background seemed to die down a bit. "I'm going to have to stop talking for a bit. They're not making enough noise now to cover up the conversation."

"Right," agreed Sanjiv. "I'm going to have to break the connection with your transmitter for a bit. It will only take a few minutes and then I'll add you back onto the wavelength."

"Okay," she murmured, a slight hint of fear present in her voice. The young Bookman couldn't blame her for this fear, for she was right in the middle of the lion's den. "Please hurry."

With that said Sanjiv flipped a switch to turn off the connection to Sophia's transmitter. "How did this all happen?" muttered the young Bookman to himself as he flipped the switches to reconnect the others to the wavelength. "I know I didn't drop it at all, and it was working perfectly fine during the test."

The kid suddenly gasped. "I-I might have-" he began. He began fidgeting nervously. "I'm so, so sorry, but earlier I-"

Then Sanjiv remembered the elbow sliding across the table. Normally something small like that shouldn't have caused any harm, but Allen was an akuma. Akuma had metal bones, bones that would provide more force when accidentally knocking a radio against a wall. "I know," interrupted the young Bookman. He reconnected the loose wires behind the switches and closed the control panel once more. "Hello Cross? Neah? Mana?"

"Cross here," responded the scientist relatively quickly.

"I hear you as well," said Mana. He gave a little chuckle. "Everything is clear here. For a moment I was worried, for you all were being awfully quiet."

"There was a slight accident on this end," replied Sanjiv. The kid looked down at the table, his cheeks flushing in shame. "Everything is fine here now. Are you there Neah?"

There was no reply. He heard someone take a sharp intake of breath. "Come on, Neah," stated Mana, his voice anxious. "Say something!"

"You didn't ask about Sophia," noted Cross. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes," answered Sanjiv frankly. There was no point in lying to the others. "We have a bit of a situation in Warehouse One. Tykki Mykk and Fiidora showed up to negotiate with a gang member."

"What?!" exclaimed Mana. The juggler sounded terrified.

"Do they know that she's in there?" asked Cross shakily. Sanjiv could tell that the scientist had stopped moving, probably out of shock.

"Not that I'm aware of," replied the young Bookman. "Now if we're lucky they might duck out long enough to allow her to escape."

"What are the chances of that?" questioned Cross.

"Very slim," admitted Sanjiv. His throat suddenly felt very dry, although he didn't know why. "They probably want to take whatever is in there with them today."

"Is it the akuma?" inquired Mana. The usual mirth had vanished completely from his voice and was replaced by a cool, biting exterior hiding somewhat suppressed panic. It reminded Sanjiv very much of the day in Paris when he'd caught up with Mana after the explosion. This voice according to the few who remembered the younger Mana Walker was the only connection to his past as a member of the Clan of Noah. The young Bookman wasn't sure whether it was a good or a bad thing.

"I don't believe so," responded Sanjiv. He took a sip of tea to relieve the dry sensation in his throat. "Sophia didn't mention any akuma. How will you two proceed?"

"I'm heading over to Warehouse One," said Cross.

"Shouldn't we wait for Neah before making any decisions?" asked Mana. "It's his plan after all."

Sanjiv heard something that sounded like a door opening. "Nothing in Warehouse Two," determined Cross after a brief scan. "You can tell Neah that if he ever decides to join the conversation."

"Sure," remarked the young Bookman, taking another sip of tea. The dryness was still present even after this second mouthful. "I told Sophia that I'd turn her transmitter back on, so you two will have to be quiet otherwise you won't be doing her any favors."

"Right," they chorused.

Before Sanijv flipped on Sophia's transmitter, he heard Mana speak again. "Has Neah said anything since he left Cross and Sophia?" inquired the juggler.

"Not a word," answered Sanjiv. "I checked everything on the radio and there aren't any other problems. If he can't hear us, then there's an issue with his transmitter."

"That makes sense," mumbled Mana. The juggler remained silent for a couple minutes, so the young Bookman moved once again to turn on the last transmitter. However, he was interrupted again. "What should I do? The Clan already got past me, so is there really any point to staying in this piazza?"

"That's up to you to decide," responded Sanjiv. "You could stay there like Neah told you to, check on your brother, or go help Sophia like Cross did. Of course, running away is also an option, even if the others would prefer that you did not. I won't deny it, though. Like you said, there really is little purpose in remaining in the piazza."

"Thanks for the advice," sighed Mana. "I suppose you ought to turn Sophia's transmitter back on, so I'll stop bothering you."

The young Bookman waited a couple minutes just to make sure that Mana wasn't going to talk again before flipping the switch for Sophia's transmitter. He didn't hear anything signifying that she was in danger, and the fact that her transmitter was still receiving a signal reassured him that she was still hidden for the meantime. Allen stared the radio down with a death glare like it would prevent it from transmitting any bad news. Uneasily Sanjiv sat back and started recording the current events, his free hand twitching a bit as he wrote.

oOo

He was completely useless. The one thing he'd been told to do, and he'd blown it. Granted, Mana hadn't seen any coaches go by this morning, and he'd been extremely vigilant. He knew exactly how many men had passed him wearing top hats- thirty-nine- and how many good looking girls had passed by and scoffed when the clown gave them a cheery wave- twelve and twelve respectively. Mana hadn't been very lucky in that aspect.

Still, he couldn't fathom how one, let alone two Noah could have passed him without him noticing. They certainly would have been the first people to catch his eyes if they'd gone through the piazza, even if they'd been covered in soot like the rest of the populace. Tykki and Fiidora must have come by some other avenue. That was the only possible explanation. It brought to question, though, just how they'd managed it. Mana didn't think that they would've used the Ark. The Earl treasured the Ark too much to let any mere human see it. The Ark…

They must have come by boat. Somehow Tykki and Fiidora had gotten on a boat close enough to the city to arrive today and go directly to the factory. He knew that Naples was a port city, but he hadn't expected the Clan of Noah to actually utilize human forms of transportation, especially something as slow- and what they no doubt saw as primitive- as a boat. Mana wasn't certain of all the technicalities, yet he was certain that they must have come by sea.

This realization did little to help the situation, for it still left the dilemma of what he should do now. Sanjiv had agreed- a first for him- that there was no point to remain in the piazza. Mana knew all his options, for the young Bookman had laid them out in front of him. All that was left was for him to choose an option. Instinct told him to run away; it was what he was good at. Ever since he had left Walker Manor he'd been running. At first, it had been tiresome and he couldn't see the point of it. He'd been a lord before, and even though he had lacked in socialization as compared to other children of his status at the same age, Mana had been used to being special. His special 'gifts' as a Noah had also made him surer of himself. Back then there had been nothing to fear, and it went completely against his nature to keep his head down like Cross had told him many times. Everything had changed, though, after Pierrot had died. It had only taken one moment for Mana to realize that he was not safe anymore. The only way to stay safe in this world where he now lived was to run. And so he kept running from that point on.

Of course there were a few times he wouldn't run. He hadn't run away from Cross- although he fully intended to- when his friend had said he'd joined the Black Order. Mana also had never run from Neah. He'd even gone to meet his brother a year and a half ago outside of Berlin, even though Neah could have easily killed him right there. It was completely foolhardy for him to do so, and he still wasn't exactly sure why he'd risked his life in such a manner. The juggler just couldn't bring himself to run away from his brother. He'd already lost Rory and their mother. Mana would always keep his eyes open for any sight of Rory, but in the meantime he had Neah. He would protect Neah with everything he had.

The only way to protect his brother now would be to dive right into the fray. It was a very unfortunate circumstance, one he was definitely not looking forward to, but Mana Walker would not run away from his friends or family. He had stood up to Neah before when he was a child. Right now he'd have to muster up what little courage he had and prepare for battle. Mana took off his wig and clown nose. He then took out a rag and used water from a nearby fountain to clean off his face. There was a little bit of black greasepaint left in his bag, so Mana drew a mustache on his face- just as a precaution. Satisfied with his work, the juggler ran out of the piazza towards the factory and what he believed to be certain death.

Perhaps if he'd turned around for a moment he would have noticed the black coach pull up into the square, a black coach bearing a rose cross on each door in silver paint. A pale hand drew aside a curtain to look out at the square. This person looked around the piazza, eyes locking onto the juggler's raven hair whipping behind him in the breeze, but the observer soon looked away. For once, Mana Walker truly had missed something extremely important.

oOo

About ten minutes after Doriano Bianchi left the warehouse another man came in to take his place. Signor Bonaducci was one of the foremen of the factory and in charge of personel from what Sophia could recall from earlier. She'd heard the foreman in front of the factory mention the man when Neah, Cross, and herself presented their papers. Tykki immediately snuffed out his cigarette and greeted the man with his typical charismatic drawl. "Good morning, Signor Bonaducci."

"I'd say it's hardly a good morning," grumbled the man. He had a deep bass voice that rasped a bit as he spoke. From the spot where she currently sat hidden, Sophia could see Tykki, Fiidora, and Signor Bonaducci reflected in the metal of one of the many shelving units in the warehouse. Signor Bonaducci's appearance matched perfectly with his voice: disheveled brown hair sticking out from under a cap matching the five o'clock shadow on the man's face; soot-stained clothing fitting tightly to his muscular frame; dark eyes narrowed as he sized up the two lords; and dry, cracked skin covering his hands. He cracked his knuckles before speaking again. "You were supposed to come tomorrow."

"Well, a little bird told us that the shipment had come in early," replied Tykki with a grin. "Some of you Camorra just try too hard to please us. Anyhow, the Earl is in a bit of a rush right now, so I thought it'd be best to finish this as quickly as possible. We have a skiff tied up to Loading Dock E, but we'll need to borrow a few of your men to move the oil."

From what Sophia could recall, the Camorra was a rather notorious gang in Naples. Sanjiv said that they were involved in many different pursuits, but she hadn't thought that the steel industry would be one of them.

"That will cost you more," responded Signor Bonaducci. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, which made his biceps bulge further in the tight shirt he wore.

Tykki frowned at the man. "Well, that seems hardly fair," he sighed. Tykki leaned on a walking stick he carried. "I thought loading was included in the price."

"No, it isn't," retorted the foreman. "Only the oil and the smuggling were included. If you're not willing to pay more, then carry the barrels yourself."

The Noah of Pleasure looked upon Signor Bonaducci in disgust. "But that's common work!" complained Tykki Mikk. He took a step back and put his weight on his back leg. "I could hardly lift one of those barrels let alone all one hundred of them."

Sophia could imagine Cross barking at this claim. He would have every right, for Tykki being weak was just about as real as Father Christmas. She supposed it was to go with the Clan's made up life. There weren't many aristocrats who could carry one hundred barrels filled with oil outside to a ship that was probably docked a good distance from the factory, and all of this without breaking a sweat.

The foreman smirked, most likely thinking that he had the upper hand, and walked forward. "Then do we have a deal? 200 ducats and I'll get the men to move them during lunch."

"That's awfully expensive," groaned Tykki. He stuck his hand in front of his mouth in a mock look of surprise. Fiidora rolled his eyes and began to wander off, inspecting the barrels and other items in the warehouse. When he started wandering her way, Sophia did her best not to shake or make any noise at all. He was about to poke his head into aisle where she was hiding, when Tykki spoke again. "Wouldn't you say so, Fiidora?"

While Fiidora turned around to agreed with Tykki, she scooted as silently as possible further into the labyrinth of crates and barrels. Finding a new crate to hide behind a good five meters farther away from the men she stopped, afraid that her heartbeat- now more rapid than before- would give her away. Sophia did her best to keep herself from shaking as she sat and waited.

"By no means are we poor," laughed Tykki. His cane scraped against the floor as he lifted it from the ground. "We just believe in, well, fair prices. Of course we won't cheat you from your due pay, but 200 ducats? That seems a bit too high for me. What would that bring us to now? 500 ducats? The Millennium Earl certainly wouldn't be happy to hear this."

"Well, that's too bad," huffed Signor Bonaducci. "Perhaps next time your Earl should be a bit more specific about what he wants from the beginning. You can take it or leave it."

As they continued to bicker, Fiidora began to wander about once again like a lone vulture. Like the first time she waited for him to become distracted before moving to a hopefully safer spot. Unfortunately, she had to stop between a crate and the far right wall since Fiidora began to walk down an aisle just parallel of this nook. It was one of the few times that she was glad that she wasn't tall, although this really wasn't the time to be proud of her very average height. The argument grew louder and louder to a point where Sophia wouldn't have been surprised if the entire factory could hear Tykki and Signor Bonaducci quarrelling. She thought Tykki's argument was rather ridiculous, for she knew that at least Sheril could pay the 500 ducats* that Signor Bonaducci was asking. She'd seen the Noah of Desire spend the equivalent of that much in pounds if not more on a night out with Lulubell. The good thing about the situation was that it allowed her a chance to try and contact the others.

Sophia was a bit concerned by the amount of static coming from her transmitter, but it was better than the silence from earlier. Finally it cleared up and a voice called out quietly, "This is Sanjiv. Who is this?"

"Sanjiv!" cried out Sophia shakily, gripping her pendent tightly. Her raging heartbeat calmed a little at the sound of his voice. "Thank God! I thought my transceiver had stopped working."

"No, it was just a problem with the main receiver," said the young Bookman. A couple clicks sounded in the background through the transceiver, but she paid them no mind. "What has happened? You sound a bit off."

"I've run into a problem in warehouse one," she mumbled. Sophia looked around to make sure Fiidora wasn't anywhere close by before continuing. "There's a member of the Camorra in here arguing with Tykki Mikk."

"Tykki Mikk is there?" asked Sanjiv. There was something odd about his tone, almost as if the young Bookman was concerned. "Is anyone else there?"

"He brought Fiidora with him," she replied. "He's been looking around the place while Tykki negotiated with the Camorra representative. I've had to move a couple times, but I'm right next to a wall now. I don't know for how long I'll be able to avoid him."

There was a pause at the other end. She heard Sanjiv breathe deeply over the transceiver. Yes, he definitely sounded tense, but before she could ask about it he spoke again. "Try to remain calm and keep moving if possible," he stated. "I turned off the other transmitters earlier, but I'm going to turn them on now."

She gripped the pendent-turned-transceiver even tighter. "Alright," responded Sophia. There was a break in the argument behind her. Whether it was because they'd finally agreed on a price or were just mulling in their own thoughts, she wasn't certain. However, it did seem best for her to cut off the exchange. "I'm going to have to stop talking for a bit. They're not making enough noise now to cover up the conversation."

"Right," responded Sanjiv. "I'm going to have to break the connection with your transmitter for a bit. It will only take a few minutes and then I'll add you back onto the wavelength."

"Okay," she murmured, her voice quivering a bit. "Please hurry."

The line became silent, letting her know that Sanjiv had cut it off. Silence sat heavily over the room for a few minutes before someone spoke again.

"Well, if we're going to have to pay you 500 ducats, you should at least move the barrels now," spat Tykki Mikk bitterly. Apparently Signor Bonaducci had won in this case, although Sophia wouldn't be surprised if Tykki came back some day for revenge on the foreman.

"I'd have to take men off their shifts, and by then those Cosa Nostra bastards will have noticed that something is up," deflected the foreman simply.

"You have a pest problem?" inquired Fiidora, genuinely interested for the first time that day.

"There are spies in the factory associated with the Cosa Nostra," elaborated Signor Bonaducci. He accented each word with a movement of his hands. "They've been far too interested in the deal and yourselves, sirs. We brought in additional Camorra members today in preparation of taking them out tonight. It was the perfect plan! We had a mole in their ranks ready to lead us to their headquarters tonight, but you had to show up early! Who knows what they'll do once they find out about this deal?"

"Does it affect us?" asked Tykki flatly.

"They'd be able to sell information on your purchase to anyone who paid for it," said the foreman, "even the Black Order."

"Shit," murmured Tykki, hitting his cane against the floor. "How many of them are there?"

"From what my spy had said, this cell has at least seventy-five members, fourty-nine of which are employees in the factory," elaborated Signor Bonaducci.

"Make that forty-eight," interrupted Fiidora. Even at a distance of fifteen meters from the Noah of Corrosion Sophia could feel the malicious air coming off of him.

"Forty- eight?" snickered Tykki Mikk. "Did you take care of one of them earlier, Fiidora? You should have told me!"

"No," responded Fiidora, "but we certainly have a pest problem around here…"

The three men stopped talking and separated to search the warehouse. It took all of her willpower to keep herself from gasping. All three men wove through the labyrinth of the warehouse checking each nook and cranny for the 'pest' Fiidora had mentioned. Somehow the Noah must have become aware of her presence. Maybe it had been during the conversation with Sanjiv. Neah seemed to have very good hearing, so she wouldn't doubt that the other Noah were the same in that manner. She would have to keep her mouth shut if- when- they found her.

But she couldn't let them find her. If they did, then they'd recognize her without a doubt. Then not only would she be in danger, but they would certainly know what Neah had done. They'd go searching for him then. There was also the chance that Sanjiv and Bookman would come under fire, as well. Both of them had spent time at Walker Manor before, and Sanjiv was definitely closer to Neah than any other member of the Clan of Noah. They would probably try to kill Sanjiv and Bookman for this, too. And then Allen wouldn't have someone to control him when his desire to kill became too great. He'd probably revert back to his former life or isolate himself until he died. Mana's heart would be broken by loss of his little brother and his other friends. He'd probably never want to smile again, and she didn't even want to imagine a world where Mana would never smile. Then there was Cross… Her best friend would never forgive himself. Cross would survive, that much she was certain of, but he'd never exactly be Cross again. Just like when he stopped being Gitano when he'd left Walker Manor, he would cease to be Cross and move off in some entirely new direction. Mana and he would then wander forever. Sophia just couldn't let this happen to her friends.

As Fiidora came closer and closer to the crate where she hid, Sophia prepared herself. She was going to have to fight her way out. This would be the first time she'd seriously be using Innocence to fight a Noah, and she couldn't afford to mess up. All she simply needed to do was control them long enough so that she could get out without them seeing her. She'd probably only be able to control one of them at a time, for she hadn't tried multiple possessions before. Then she'd have to use the one she caught to distract the others. It definitely wouldn't be an easy task, but hopefully the confusion would be enough of a cover to escape…

Who was she kidding? They were going to see her for at least a second. She was just going to have to be faster than all of them.

Fiidora stopped in front of the crate that hid her. She held her breath, and began mustering as much energy as she could in preparation of synchronizing with her Innocence. As he bent forward to look forward, though, there came a loud noise from outside. The Noah of Corrosion looked down the aisle and began walking away towards the door. Tykki and Signor Bonaducci met him by the door.

"What's that noise?" inquired Fiidora.

One of them opened the door, allowing the noise to come through more clearly. "Merda!" cursed Signor Bonaducci. "A riot now?! Excuse me, sirs, but I'm going to have to go take care of this. If you'll just wait here-"

"We're going to move the boat," stated Tykki. "As soon as we return we'll pay you. Hopefully this riot should free up some of your associates temporarily."

"It should," replied the foreman. Sophia heard him walk off down the hall.

"We're leaving now?" asked Fiidora furiously. "But what about-"

"Look, we don't have time to search the entire factory right now," retorted Tykki, hitting his cane against the ground for emphasis. "Maybe there's someone in the warehouse, but it could also be someone out at that rally. Plus, I've got a weird feeling about this place."

"Then we should look for whatever it is!" exclaimed the Noah of Corrosion. He began to kick the crates closest to the door. "This feeling is driving me crazy! What the hell is it?!"

Sophia heard something click. "Alright, I've locked the door from the outside," grumbled Tykki Mikk. "No one will be able to get out of here without moving some of these crates to reach those windows up above. Are you happy now?"

"Fine," consented Fiidora, "but I'm checking every square centimeter of this warehouse when we return."

"Do as you wish," sighed Tykki in exasperation. "For now, let's go."

Sophia heard the ever odd sound of Tykki phasing through a wall. He'd only ever done that a handful of times in front of her, mostly to scare her out of her wits. One time, however, he had phased his head through the door of her room in the Camelot's Manor. It had been the day after Rhian had passed, and she'd been packing her things in preparation of moving to Walker Manor to take over caring for Lady Arienne. When her back was turned Tykki had phased his head through the wall and reminded her that no matter where she was, he could still check in on her for his brother and his niece. It had shaken her quite terribly, and she'd been most glad when Neah- albeit reluctantly- had come to fetch her in the cart. Even though she'd been away from the other Noah for over half a year, she still felt the need to wait just to make certain that Tykki and Fiidora were gone. Of course, it wouldn't matter much, for she still wouldn't be able to escape. Since Tykki had locked the door she was pretty well stuck, and climbing out of the window would only put them on her trail like bloodhounds. Her best shot would be for Signor Bonaducci to return first and unlock the door. Then she could sneak out or in the worst case scenario attempt to blend in temporarily with any workers he brought with him. Despite how dangerous she knew the Camorra was, Sophia knew that they would be much more merciful than the Clan of Noah.

From the lack of any sound, she was pretty certain the coast was clear. Sophia finally let out a normal breath. The next minute, though, she wished she hadn't. At the sound of her breath someone had slammed their hands down on the crate in front of her. She almost let out a squeak of terror, trying desperately to remember if Tykki could phase other people through walls. If he couldn't, then this was probably Fiidora, which would be a terrible circumstance. The young girl prepared herself for a bitter fight, taking up the best squatting stance that she could remember from Sanjiv's lessons. Instead of smashing the crate to bits, though, her assailant merely asked one question. "Sophia?"

**Finally, I have finished this chapter! Sorry it took so long. Anyhow, who do you think our mystery assailant is? Please review!**


	24. Chapter 24: Asperges Me

**Thanks to everyone for all the reviews! This should hopefully be the second to last section in Naples, so we'll be getting back to Rome soon as well as moving on towards the climax of the story (yikes!).**

**Disclaimer: Really, I don't own it.**

**Part Twenty-Four: Asperges Me**

"_Pity me, O God, according to Thy great mercy."_

Tomas Luis de Victoria, Psalm 51

He could feel his lungs burning as he ran through the dark, smoky, twisting hallways of the factory. Cross didn't care, though, for he had something more important on his mind. To be honest, the entire situation seemed like a coincidence, an extremely bad stroke of luck. Perhaps Noah were unconsciously attracted to the schemes of their other family members. He really doubted that they'd meant to be here on the same day as Neah, and he was certain that the Noah of Destruction wouldn't have thrown them intentionally into danger. Well... he wasn't absolutely certain about that last part, but knowing how much effort Neah had put into this plan made him doubt his own doubts.

Once again he reached the main hallway and his thoughts turned back to Sophia. He severely regretted leaving her alone earlier. Perhaps if he'd insisted on going with her then she wouldn't be trapped in the warehouse oh so very close to mortal peril. His heart beat rapidly when thinking back to the transmission from earlier, the calm and largely indifferent tone of Sanjiv as he told them of her current plight. Cross knew that he needed to calm down and keep a straight head on, but everything seemed to be spinning wildly in a tornado around him, a tornado that wouldn't pass until he knew that Sophia was safe.

When he came to the hall where he'd parted with Sophia naught twenty minutes ago, he found the way blocked by two very large, threatening looking guards. Cross knew instantly that they were with the Camorra. Whoever was negotiating with Tykki and Fiidora must have placed the guards there to keep everyone else out. Something told Cross that asking nicely to pass wouldn't work in this case. He doubted even a busty woman batting heavily made up eyes could get past those guards. It made him want to yell and throw something at their matching bald heads, for as they stood there the clock kept ticking and surely Tykki and Fiidora would realize that there were more than three people in the warehouse...

He had to think. There was no time to fret over the obstruction of two mafia oafs in his path. All it meant was that he couldn't go through the hallway. That left a couple options. The first would be to sneak outside and find a way back into the factory preferably on the other end of the hall. Of course, this could very well mean he'd have to climb into the warehouse itself, making himself a moving target for the two Noah and the Camorra member who most likely carried a gun. That would be a complete waste of time. The only other option would be to somehow get the Noah and whoever else was in there to come outside. It would be far more difficult unless he took off his hat, stood on a box, and started shouting 'Hey! Remember me?! I'm Gitano!' The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd leave that as his absolute last option, for being a moving target would be better than giving away any kind of protection Rhian had given himself and in turn Mana. Then again, Mana would probably run away before they could even bat an eyelash in his direction. Damn juggler.

An older man carrying a crate of steel bolts in front of him tripped over a crack in the floor, causing the little metal bits to scatter across the floor. "Hey!" barked one of the goons. He glowered at the older man. "Watch where you're going! Don't make me call the foreman on you!"

So that was who was in the meeting with Tykki and Fiidora. It made a lot of sense. Even an underground crime ring like the Camorra would want their senior members in high positions in a legal environment. As the older man bowed his head, apologizing profusely, an idea struck Cross. It wasn't a great idea, but it was better than anything else he'd thought up, and he was running on a tight schedule.

He joined the crowd of men who moved in to help pick up the fallen bolts. The second goon now flung a tirade of words at them, causing most of the men to grumble discontentedly to themselves. "I'd like to see him try to carry this crate around," muttered one man darkly.

"He'd probably have an easy time of it," replied another. "Look at the muscles on that guy."

"How come he doesn't carry this instead?" asked Cross, trying his best to seem disinterested.

"He's a pal of Signor Bonaducci," explained the older man who'd dropped the box.

"So that means he gets special treatment," scoffed Cross, rolling his brown eyes. "It's pathetic what pigs like him can get away with."

"What do you mean?" inquired the first man. The others didn't look at him, but Cross could tell they were listening.

"Well," he began, "I've heard that they give special jobs to people who are friends with the boss, easier work that gets more pay." He felt rather silly, talking like this. It reminded him a bit of the office clerks in Headquarters. Luckily, since those women didn't like leaving him alone he had a lot of practice with this kind of gossip.

"How much?" questioned the second man.

"I'm not certain," responded Cross while waving a hand in front of himself. "I imagine it must come as a kind of bonus from Signor Bianchi. I mean, the foremen get paid twenty ducat a month."

He was glad that he'd gone over all this extra information about the factory with the others. Cross noted he'd have to thank Sanjiv for mentioning that bit later.

"Twenty ducats a month!" hissed a boy about his age. "With that kind of money I could pay the rent for an entire month, plus buy bread for my siblings, my parents, and my entire extended family!"

"What would they need with that kind of money?" asked another man bitterly. "A lot of those foremen aren't even married yet. They don't have kids to care for."

"Those pigs!" spat the first man. He said it a bit loudly, startling the other men. Cross, though, took it in stride. After all, he'd wanted to get them upset.

"Quiet!" bellowed one of the guards.

This action only upset the man even more. "I don't need you giving me shit," hollered the man, glaring daggers at the guard. "Now I picked up the damn bolts for you lazy oafs! What else do you meatheads want?!"

The guard, now red in the face from being called both a lazy oaf and a meathead, moved forward from his post to confront the man. While this occurred, the older man who'd originally dropped the box turned to Cross. "Is this a strike?" inquired the man.

Cross thought about it for a moment. He knew that foremen hated when workers attempted to strike. It seemed to be as good of a draw as any for Signor Bonaducci.

"Um... yes," he replied. The men around him began to talk hurriedly amongst themselves.

Suddenly the boy who'd complained about the twenty ducats stood up on the box of bolts. "STRIKE!" he bellowed.

The two guards looked at each other stunned as the workers dropped their things and began shouting. Soon there were hundreds of men milling about throwing boxes and bits of unfinished steel. Several men jumped on the guards and began pummeling them. It hadn't been _exactly_ what Cross had had in mind, but it seemed to be doing the job. Around a dozen foremen and other supervisors descended on the scene, attempting in vain to return the men to order.

Cross found himself being pushed through the undercurrent of this riot, feeling slightly guilty but rather pleased with himself at the same time. He must have caught the trouble bug from Mana and Neah at some point in his life, although he couldn't think of an instance where any of their schemes made things get this out of hand. He came into the main workroom, a good distance from the place in the hallway where he'd started this mess. Unlike in the blaster room the smoke here rose in pillars from men burning wood, paper, or anything else flammable that they could get their hands on. Cross was suddenly hoisted up above the crowd by a few of the men he'd been talking to in the hallway.

"Hey!" he spluttered. "What the hell are you doing?! Put me down!"

They ignored his protests and continued along their merry way, singing some spirited number in Italian that was probably some union's ballad. He continued to curse them out with every single derogatory term he could think of (Mana had been teaching them to Allen until Neah had finally put a foot down blithering about how it wasn't polite or some shit like that) until he found himself face to face with several menacing looking men. The men who'd been carrying him about ceased their singing although the strike continued behind him. Cross noticed a much smaller better dressed man in the back. He peeked out from behind one of the bigger men and looked them over. Finally, he said, "Bring the redhead up to my office."

The large man closest to Cross grabbed him by the arm and began pushing him up the stairs. He looked back to see the men wave mournfully at him before scurrying away. "Cazzo," muttered Cross.

It wouldn't be until later that he'd realize that he'd lost something extremely important. Somewhere, most likely due to all the shoving he'd experienced on the lower floor, he'd lost the rosary that'd hung around his neck…

oOo

Sophia knew that voice. She felt the tension in her muscles and her throat melt away for it wasn't Fiidora. Carefully she poked her head out from behind the crate. "Mana!" she whispered. "What are you doing here? How did you even get inside without them seeing you?!"

He gave her a wicked grin. "Never underestimate someone who has lived among acrobats," he chided, jumping up onto the crate. "I saw Tykki and Fiidora come out through the wall, so I climbed up on the other side and went through a window. Don't worry, though. I closed it before climbing down. They won't even notice the difference."

"But they locked the door!" exclaimed Sophia. She clambered onto the crate to stand next to Mana. "They'll be able to see that it's unlocked when they come back."

"Did they lock it from the inside or the outside?" asked Mana, huffing a bit in thought. It reminded her a bit of Cross when he was thinking deeply about something. Seeing this look on Mana made her want to laugh.

"The outside," responded Sophia, a bit unsure of where he was going with this train of thought.

"Hmm..." said Mana. He jumped off the box and began walking towards the door. Sophia followed him, looking about warily in case if Tykki or Fiidora suddenly returned. Mana began examining the door like one would go about observing a new species of plant. He paced back and forth, lay down on the ground to look through the crack under the door, put his eye up to the crock between the door and the door jam, and even wiped a gloved finger across the handle and _licked_ whatever came off of it. It didn't seem to bother Mana, but Sophia was certain her face must have been green at that point. "Steel handle, must be new. Of course, that isn't surprising since we're in a steel factory. From what I'm seeing I think it's a Mortise lock that's also secured by a large latch."

"Alright," stated Sophia, "but what are we going to do about it? We can't pick this lock open."

Mana looked at her aghast. "Sophia!" he cried, placing a hand over his heart. "You pick locks? Did Neah put you up to it?! That rascal!"

"No!" she retorted, waving her hands in front of her. "It's just what I've read in books."

Mana sighed. "Good," he commented. "As long as it wasn't you two picking locks after you left Walker Manor... Although it does bring to question your taste in literature-"

"Mana, we don't have time for this," complained Sophia, tapping her foot a bit impatiently. "They could be back any minute."

"Right," agreed Mana. He rubbed his hands in front of him before pulling several things out of his bag: a long piece of fishing line, a small metal hoop, a stick that she'd seen him use to twirl dinner plates, and a knife. After cutting the line into two pieces, he handed them and the hoop to Sophia. "Tie one end of each of those to the hoop."

"Okay," she replied. Quickly she did as she was told and handed the new contraption off to Mana. "Now what?"

"Hold on a minute while I feed this through the crack at the top of the door," he stated. Sophia watched as one half of the fishing line and then the metal hoop disappeared through the crack. It banged lightly against the door as Mana continued feeding the other end through about a third of the way. He began moving slowly towards the right until they heard the sound of metal hitting metal. "That's the latch! Now I just have to get the hoop around it... alright I think I have it. Now use that stick to pull the other end of the line back under the door."

Sophia got down on her belly, the stick in hand. She could barely make out the fishing line on the floor, but with a bit of effort she spotted it rising off the floor like a dancing serpent in a basket. The stick luckily fit under the door and it was only half a minute before she dragged a portion of the slack line under the door. "I have the line," she told Mana.

"Good!" he quipped. While she'd been working on the line he'd bent down to grab the knife. "I'm going to slide this between the door frame and the bolt to loosen it up. Then you pull up on that end of the fishing line to open the latch while pushing down on that door handle- mind you, use a cloth or something. It won't do any good if they can smell you on the door handle. My family has some pretty outrageous senses. Last, we'll both pull back, and the door should open."

"The door should open?" she questioned as she pulled out a kerchief from Mana's bag.

"Well, there's a _really_ small chance that it won't, but I'm not a scientist or whatever Cross would call himself," he elaborated with a gesture of the knife. Realizing that it would be a bad idea to swing it too far, Mana restrained himself. "I do know, though, that the door definitely won't open if we don't try."

Sophia knew he was right about that. "I'm ready," she said a bit nervously.

Mana gave her another grin before turning back to the door. "Here we go!" he called out cheerfully. There was a bit of a hitch in his own voice, making her feel a little better about her own anxiety. He slid the knife into the gap between the door jam and the bolt. When he ceased moving Sophia pulled on her end of the fishing line. She heard the click of the latch opening, and when she pushed on the handle it swung just like it would if the door were unlocked. Without even looking at each other they pulled back, and as Mana had said the door did open.

Sophia gasped in surprise. Even Mana looked like he couldn't believe that his trick had worked. However, they didn't pause to celebrate this small victory. Mana picked up his bag with one hand, and Sophia hurried out of the warehouse. He continued pressing on the bolt as he moved slowly to the other side of the door, closing it behind him. Once the door was again closed, Mana finally pulled his knife away from the bolt. It clicked back into place. Sophia pulled the hoop and the fishing line off the door and coiled the two loose ends around the hoop. Finally Mana pushed the latch back down.

"There!" he exclaimed while placing the knife back into his bag. He took the stick, the kerchief, and the fishing line bound hoop from Sophia and replaced them in his bag, too. "They won't even know the difference. Now let's get going!"

They took off down the hallway towards what seemed like a shouting crowd. Because of the noise Sophia nearly missed Mana asking about Neah.

"What?" she inquired.

"Have you heard from my brother?" he finally yelled over the noise. His gaze seemed serious and utterly frightened. It was so very unlike him- unlike the Mana she'd been living with the past half of a year- that it unsettled her.

"No," she responded truthfully. "I haven't even heard from Cross or Sanjiv. He probably still hasn't gotten the message."

"R-right," replied Mana. She could see the disappointment written on his face. Now she understood why he'd come to the factory. Neah, though, would probably have an aneurysm if he even thought about the idea of Mana coming to look for him. He'd say something along the lines of not needing help because he knew what he was doing and he's the one with Noah powers. The younger Walker had a way of making everything that someone did out of instinct seem like a foolish idea. It couldn't change the fact that the sentimentality of Mana's presence made her smile.

Her thoughts were hijacked once they reached the opening of the corridor. In the hall were swarms of people running about smashing things in a mob-like mentality. Sophia was pretty certain that she saw someone swinging a long steel rod about in the hall. However, she didn't have much time to take in the scene of the riot for the way was blocked by a thug. His overalls were torn and the blues of his eyes only stood out more because of the black eye on the left side of his face. He looked positively furious to see them.

"What the fuck?!" he thundered. "Where the hell did you two come from?!"

Mana put on a strained smile and took a step forward, flourishing his hands like he often did. "Well, you see, sir, we were in the lavatory when we heard all of this noise-"

"I didn't authorize you to use the lavatory," spat the man. He sauntered forward until he was inches from Mana's face. "Furthermore, there isn't a lavatory down this corridor, at least not for employees."

Mana laughed nervously, his bravado fading fast. "Oops, I forgot," he muttered.

"Where the hell did you come from?!" repeated the thug. He drew back a fist, most likely to pummel the juggler into the next century before dragging his body off to talk with Signor Bonaducci, so Sophia pushed Mana down before punching him in the stomach. This decision wasn't the smartest she'd ever made, and the thug didn't seem to be placated. In fact, he looked even more pissed. The only good thing was that her fist didn't hurt despite the thug being made up almost entirely of muscle. He just wasn't as strong as a member of the Clan of Noah.

The thug pinned her up against the wall. "DID YOU THINK YOU WERE BEING SMART, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he shouted. Sophia could feel spit flying out of his mouth hitting her face. She wanted to cringe, but she remained firm. Mana looked up from his spot on the ground, his expression turning from shock to fear once he saw the thug holding her against the wall. "I WAS THINKING OF GOING EASIER ON YOU, BUT NOW YOU CAN GO FIRST! THIS IS A HELLO FOR YOUR BOSS, CAMORRA BASTARD!"

This definitely was not what she'd been hoping would happen. The only thing that could make this situation any worse would be if she egged him on, telling him to give it his best shot. She braced herself for the impact, but it never came. As the shadow of the man's fist crossed her face he suddenly faltered and dropped her. Sophia stumbled a bit upon her feet hitting the ground, but she was oriented enough to see the boy who had felled the thug. He didn't appear much older than herself if the lack of any sign of facial hair on his olive complexion could tell her anything. In fact he could potentially be even younger for his muscled physique looked odd. Dark brown curly hair hung limply around his round face. The boy offered Mana a hand up, which the juggler took hesitantly. "Well, here goes my cover," muttered the boy.

"Pardon?" asked Mana. Sophia punched him lightly in the arm, causing him to recoil more out of surprise than pain.

"Thank you for helping us," she stated with a slight nod of her head. From what she could recall that was the only way she'd ever really seen boys show their appreciation. She wondered briefly if they ever got tired of all that head nodding.

The boy shrugged. "I don't really care for Pietro anyways," he replied nonchalantly. "He's just a bid nuisance, so I'm more than glad to have him out of the way."

"If you don't mind me asking," interrupted Mana, "why did you do that? I know we were in a bit of a tight spot, but most _rational_ people wouldn't go up against a giant like that guy even if they think he's a nuisance."

A cross look came over the boy's face. "I keep my reasons to myself, thanks," he sniffed. "Now I'd suggest you two keep moving if you don't want to be caught up in the mess out there."

Some of that mess staggered into the hallway at that moment; a huge, bruised, sweaty mass almost identical to the one on the floor. Little streaks of blood dripped down this thug's chin due to the recent loss of several teeth. However, he was still very cognitive for upon looking down at the floor he recognized his compatriot immediately. "What the hell, Ricci?" blurted the conscious thug. "How the fuck did two little worms like these guys take Pietro out?!"

The boy- who Sophia presumed must be named Ricci- only paused a moment before launching an attack against the new thug. They weren't very smart tactful blows like the ones Sanjiv seemed to prefer, but rather hard impact punches aimed at the face and kicks below the waste in an attempt to destabilize the bigger man. At first, the second thug only blocked the blows.

"What the fuck, Ricci?" he seethed in confused outrage. He seemed to realize the true story behind his unconscious comrade, for his countenance turned very venomous in a matter of minutes. "You son of a bitch! How much did those Camorra bastards pay you to become a turncoat?! Just wait until I take you to Signor Bonaducci! See if you feel so good about being an underhanded bastard then!"

Sophia crept over to stand beside Mana. "Do you think we should help him?" she questioned, gesturing to Ricci.

He gaped at her. "Sophia, there's a difference between helping people and just being reckless in the sake of virtue. This case would be one of the latter," he responded.

Perhaps Mana could be satisfied with that validation, but the boy Ricci really looked outnumbered. The thug by now had knocked him back a couple times even though Ricci had probably done him more damage. From having observed his fighting style more, it was easy for her to tell that he was used to fighting with a small knife.

Ricci procured such a weapon from his left shirt sleeve and began pushing the fight towards the opposite wall. The second thug eyed the knife cautiously, waiting for the opportunity to wrench it away from the boy and use it himself. Sophia did not want to see it come to that. It would be easy enough now to leave, but she couldn't very well abandon Ricci after he helped them. Sure, he might be a spy as the second thug seemed to conclude, and a gang member to boot, but there was the chance that he wasn't so ingrained in the underworld. To leave him here to kill or to be killed just wouldn't be right. She took Mana's bag from him and began looking around inside. He yelped lightly in protest, but stopped upon seeing her objective.

"Weren't you listening to what I said earlier?" hissed Mana. As he continued to berate her judgment Sophia took a pin from the bag and crept up behind the thug. When he seemed distracted enough, she swung the pin at his head with all her might. It broke with a loud crack, but the impact did its job. As the second thug tottered about Ricci took the chance to knock him out like the first one.

"Well that's just perfect," he mumbled darkly. He inclined his head just as she had earlier, but didn't voice his approval. "I won't be able to get away with this one."

"I don't really think it matters much," said Sophia. "So these guys were with another gang?"

"Cosa Nostra," stated Ricci, while spitting on the ground. "Of course, they thought I was with them, but loyalties lie elsewhere as Guiseppe just told you. I can tell you're not with them or the Camorra. Don't recognize either of you. Still, why was Pietro after you?"

"Wrong place at the wrong time," sighed Mana, looking up at the ceiling. "It seems to be happening a lot today. I hope it doesn't become a habit."

"Well, the best thing you two could do is leave, then," remarked Ricci. He jerked a thumb towards the hall. "I doubt anyone will care to stop you."

"Right," commented Sophia. "Before we go, though, could I ask you something? Have you seen-"

"A boy about your age?" asked Mana. He looked at the boy intently, completely serious with desperation pouring through his eyes. Sophia realized that he must have been more worried about Neah than she'd originally thought. "He isn't very tall, and he's on the thinner side. Messy black hair… sort of broody… oh, and he might have been wearing glasses. Please tell me you've seen him."

The boy thought for a bit. "Can't say I have," admitted Ricci with a shrug. "Of course, I just might not have noticed him. I was a bit too preoccupied with the redhead that started this whole mess."

"Cross did this?!" inquired Mana incrediously.

Sophia felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. He'd probably started this whole mess in order to get Signor Bonaducci, Tykki, and Fiidora out of the warehouse. "Did you see where he went?" she questioned.

"The redhead?" replied the boy. He jerked his head towards a flight of stairs. "They took him up to Doriano Bianchi's office. Don't know what they'll do about him. Signor Bianchi doesn't seem too happy with him."

"I wouldn't think so," murmured Sophia. She nodded her head at Ricci. "Well, we'll be off, then. Thanks for the information."

She walked over to the stairs and began climbing up. Someone grabbed the railing beside her. "You're going up to Doriano Bianchi's office?" inquired Ricci, his expression aghast.

"I don't see why not," she responded. "The redhead is one of our friends, so we've got to do something."

"We?!" asked Mana. "I don't think this is a good idea. He probably doesn't want us to follow him up there, anyhow. We should just go, Soph-ocles."

Ricci fixed Mana with an odd look before turning back to her. "You can't do anything about your friend. Most likely Doriano Bianchi will ask his advisors for their opinion and they'll tell him to turn your friend over to the authorities. He'll be out in about a month- maybe only a few weeks if he's really good."

"That's not very reassuring," retorted Sophia. She could feel a bit of color come to her cheeks. "He's up there because of me, so I'm going up there even if you won't go with me… Manuel. Besides, he might know where our… other friend is."

Mana bit his lip and looked between her and the hallway. Ricci now fixed her in a bizarre look, obviously not entirely convinced about their personal motives but not daring to question them. With a sigh Mana ambled over to the stairs to follow her to the office.

Ricci threw his hands in the air. "Do what you like," he grumbled. "Good lot of help my intervening earlier is doing. You two just walk right into danger. Don't expect me to help you again."

"We won't," she replied simply. "Take care of yourself, Ricci."

His face flushed red. "What is up with you two?!" he spluttered. He pointed at Mana. "You're just carrying around a bag of blunt objects, and both of you not knowing each other's names. And now I think your friend is coming on to me cause he's acting all sweet and… and cute! What's with that?! Why do I like this?! Am I supposed to like this?!"

Mana and Sophia shared a nervous glance. "What are you talking about?" he asked innocently. "Sophocles is always like this, though I'll admit he's a cute little bugger. Maybe he should become a drag queen. Well, we've got to be going. Ta-ta!"

He grabbed her wrist and began dragging her along like one would a small child. She could hear Ricci continue to fume behind them. At the top of the stairs she pulled her arm away from Mana. "Why'd you do that?!" she questioned. "And a drag queen? Really!"

"Sorry, it was a close call," he responded while pushing his bangs out of his face. "I don't think he ever would have left us alone if he found out you were a girl. I know I told you to act like a lady before, but you can go ahead and chuck all the 'thank yous' and nice stuff out the window for now. Can't be seducing people on the fly, Sophia."

"Seducing?" she blubbered. Mana winked at her before putting his game face back on. "I didn't do anything!"

"Ah, naivety," stated Mana dramatically. "It has it's time and place. Right now we need to see what we can do about Cross and then get back downstairs and find Neah. Try contacting Sanjiv to see if he has heard from my brother."

Sophia pulled her pendant out of her shirt and was about to speak when she heard a voice. "What the hell is this?" the voice asked. It was the voice of a man now familiar to Sophia: Signor Bonaducci. He might have continued speaking, but it was out of their range, for the transmitter cut out.

They looked at each other over the silent transmitter. Someone had picked up a transmitter, and it belonged either to Cross or Neah, for Sanjiv could have cut all the lines like that. Mana bit his lip, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. Collecting herself, Sophia strode forward. It would do no good to stand there and fret. As soon as they got to Cross they'd be able to determine who'd lost their transmitter. "Let's go," she said, glancing back at Mana.

"R-right," he agreed. They ran off down the hallway, trying to keep their footsteps as quiet as possible.

oOo

He'd been very lucky. Perhaps it had been his Noah senses that led him to choose the third warehouse, but it didn't really matter to Neah. He now stood inside the warehouse full to the brim with sleeping akuma. Neah felt a smirk spread across his face. Everything from here on out would be relatively easy. Well, as easy as rewiring akuma could be. He'd have to ask Cross his opinion on that one later.

Silently he strolled through the aisles counting the number of akuma in his head. There had to be at least a hundred. If they could rewire twenty-five before the others realized anything was wrong and he had to order those ones to self destruct then he'd consider this day successful. Of course, they might get lucky, for there was a chance that some of the akuma might convert willingly. Akuma were like pack-animals. If one could convince ten of them to do something then often the others would follow suit. He knew this from experience, albeit it be a rather silly occurrence (Uncle Wisely hadn't known what to think when he'd returned to his townhouse in London to find all the furniture bolted to the ceiling. No one, though, had suspected sweet little eight year-old Neah).

Neah returned to the outside of the warehouse and shut the door lightly. He reached into his pockets to retrieve those ugly glasses- he didn't understand why Cross hadn't thought of some better kind of transceiver for him- that he'd taken off once he'd left the main workroom. Just as he raised the transceiver up to his mouth, he heard an unfamiliar voice over the air..

"_What the hell is this?_" asked a gruff, angry voice. Before the voice could continue, the line cut out. Neah listened to the empty silence that followed.

He wasn't entirely certain what he should do. Obviously someone had lost their transceiver either through accident or through force and Sanjiv had cut the line. It was probably the best choice, for it would be impossible for someone to track the other transceivers now. Still, it left to question what the hell was happening. Neah began pacing back and forth going through options in his mind. His most viable options at the moment were to either wait here or go back and see what had happened to the others. He was certain that Mana was fine, and Sanjiv had the akuma kid with him plus he was a Bookman. They were about as stealthy and tight-lipped as humans came. So if anyone was in danger it was Cross or Sophia. He shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned.

"_They'll be fine_," dismissed his Inner Noah. Neah wished that he were as certain as the Inner Noah. Still, he didn't have too much time to worry about it. He'd have to take a chance. His head turned back to the door behind him and he stopped pacing. "_Take the risk. You'll never know unless you try._"

Yes, he wouldn't know unless he tried. Even his heart and his gut agreed with this statement. There was, though, the tiniest inkling, a voice in his head that protested. Many people did say that it was better to be safe than to be sorry. Was he willing to accept the consequences if something bad were truly occurring?

Neah put his hand on the door handle. He trusted everyone he'd brought with him today. Cross and Sophia were both very capable and could take care of themselves. Besides, if experience told him anything Mana was the most likely candidate for losing a transceiver. He'd probably left his hat on the steps of the church and some disgruntled passerby had picked it up. Mana was a slob (he could barely stand sharing a room with his brother- of course he wasn't much better in the cleaning up department). Neah ducked back into the warehouse and shut the door quietly behind him.

oOo

"Why are we still sitting here?" asked Allen. Sanjiv looked up from his journal to the kid. The kid stared at him inquisitively like any child might do, so he decided it would be best to supply him with an answer.

"I'm waiting for them to speak," he replied. "I'm still taking a log."

The kid frowned at him. "I know why we came here in the first place, but I don't think that the old plan applies anymore," he said. He crossed his hands in front of his chest. "Shouldn't we go help them?"

"You can do as you see fit," stated Sanjiv. "I will remain here."

"Why?" inquired Allen.

Sanjiv wondered just how Bookman had survived travelling with him at the age of ten. He'd forgotten until now just how many question children posed. "I'm a Bookman," he commented.

"So?" questioned the kid with a quirk of his eyebrow.

It was the same thing every time. Neah had asked the exact same question of him when they'd first met. "A Bookman must never interfere directly unless it is required for his own safety," recited Sanjiv. "He is to remain unbiased and only observe the facts around him."

Neah had stopped asking questions at this point, as had Mana and Sophia. Cross hadn't even bothered to ask about it, although he seemed to have a great understanding for this fact. Allen, however, didn't stop there.

"That sounds like a lot of bullshit to me," he grumbled. "How exactly are you supposed to define 'directly'? And I know the old man and yourself sometimes trade information for more information. I don't think that your safety hangs in the balance most of these times. Colluding with a traitor seems like a stretch under that whole 'unbiased' nonsense. From the way I see it your mentor and yourself have chosen a side. Is this doctrine truly useful at all?"

Sanjiv sat there in silence. For once his mind was completely blank, no histories or facts or thoughts of any kind to interfere. It was an unsettling kind of blankness, not the comfort of a clear mind brought about by meditation. No one before had bothered to question his principles. They were steadfast, permanent, and unquestioned. But now this one boy- or rather an echo of a boy, for he was an akuma- had put a crack in the logic of the Bookman Doctrine.

Allen stood up and began walking towards the door. "I'm going to see if Mana is still in the piazza," he remarked.

Letting the akuma kid go didn't seem like the best idea considering his situation and the absence of any kind of controlling presence. He weighed his options in his mind more carefully than he'd been accustomed to in the last couple years. It was like he was at the beginning of his apprenticeship once again. Helping the kid look for Mana would probably appear too involved, not to mention if they went all the way to the factory. Bookman would have him rewriting scrolls for weeks if he did that. If he stayed here, though, Allen could lose control of himself. Naples was the most populous city in the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. The Black Order and the Clan of Noah would surely notice if an akuma went wild in the middle of the main piazza.

His thoughts were interrupted as the radio crackled to life. He took up his pen to write down what came out, but he didn't take anything down. An unfamiliar voice spoke, "What the hell is this?"

Without thinking twice Sanjiv unplugged the radio from the jack in the wall. He looked at the silent box and down at his journal. Someone had gotten hold of one of the transceivers, and he wasn't entirely sure which one. It hadn't crossed his mind to check to see which one was transmitting. He ran through all the possible scenarios leading up to a stranger obtaining one of the transmitters in his mind, each one worse than the one before. Sanjiv stopped thinking after a moment, for he suddenly realized that this wasn't a thought process: he was feeling. He was worried. A Bookman shouldn't feel anything least of all worry.

Sanjiv looked at the open journal once again. He really should stay in the cafe and continue his log. But nothing was as it should be today. He took out some coins to leave a tip for the proprietress and shoved his journal in his bag. There would be time to finish it later. Right now he needed to do something, anything to keep his mind off of what he shouldn't be feeling. Carrying the radio with him he left the cafe.

The sun was high in the sky now. People milled about enjoying the warm early summer air. Open air cafes were full to the brim as those who didn't have work at the moment enjoyed lunch under broad cloth umbrellas. Sanjiv didn't see Allen anywhere, probably because he'd run to the piazza. He took a moment to duck into an alley where he grabbed a broken handle of a shovel and smashed the radio in half. It was a precautionary measure, for he wasn't certain if the Noah or some of their akuma would be able to trace the transmitter back to the main radio should the lost transmitter fall into their hands. Cross wouldn't be too happy about it, but the young Bookman knew the scientist was capable of fixing the radio in a few minutes with the help of magic.

He ran down several more streets in his search. Just before reaching the main piazza he finally caught sight of the kid. Allen sat next to a dustbin cradling his head in his hands and whimpering. "I can do this. I c-can do this. I'm in c-c-c-c-control-"

"Allen?" Sanjiv asked. The boy looked up at him, the whites of his eyes pitch black and his pupils flickering from gray to red to gray over and over again. He was obviously close to his limit. "Someone else has picked up one of the transceivers. I'm going to see if Mana is still in the piazza because I can't communicate with them through the transceivers anymore. After that I'm heading outside the city to the hill just on the outskirts. How about you go ahead and get out of here."

Shakily the akuma kid stood and nodded his head in agreement. "Tell Mana I'm sorry that I couldn't come," he breathed out through his teeth. Allen then retreated in the opposite direction.

The main piazza yielded no sign of the juggler, causing Sanjiv to frown. Either someone had grabbed him or Mana had left of his own accord. He was pretty certain it was the latter, for he didn't hear anyone mumbling about a boy being grabbed from the main square. There was talk of a coach, though, that had come through earlier in the morning, a black coach that had a silver rose cross on each door. Sanjiv didn't even have to overhear people talking about the Black Order to know that one of their members was in Naples. It meant that he'd have to be more careful in his investigation of the piazza. For all he knew they could be looking out one of the windows directly at him.

However, moments later he knew that they weren't anywhere close to the piazza. At first it had been one bang, but then the gunshots followed the first in a torrent. People in the piazza looked about in confusion, but no one appeared to be shooting or being shot. Sanjiv recognized the sound, though. During his training he'd seen all kinds of gun fights and wars, but only one kind of gun made the sound that he heard now. It was the gun of an akuma. At first, he was afraid that Allen hadn't made it outside of the city.

That fear was soon quieted by a young man who ran into the piazza. He appeared scared but excited at the same time. Brushing his sweaty mop of hair out of his face he exclaimed, "There's a fire at Bianchi's steel factory!"

Some of the locals began running in the direction of the factory calling to friends in excitement or crying out the name of a friend or family member they knew worked there. Others ran to check on homes or other property nearby the site. It always dumbfounded Sanjiv that humans always ran directly towards danger instead of fleeing it.

He wondered if Mana was in that crowd of people looking for Neah, Cross, and Sophia. The juggler was always the kind to be more concerned about the safety of those he considered close friends or family over his own, even if he scared easily. Sanjiv stood in the piazza as it emptied contemplating what he should do now. He could go observe what was probably an akuma caused fire. The Black Order, however, was sure to be there, especially if one of the people travelling in the coach had been an exorcist. His presence wouldn't help matters if they saw Sophia, Cross, or one of the Walkers with him. That exorcist Indivar Khanna probably had spread word about Bookman and himself, and that their allegiance appeared to be with the Millennium Earl. It really was a nuisance having a person with a personal vendetta against him out there. Khanna's hatred of his clan only seemed to validate Allen's earlier points.

Plus he'd told the kid he'd come meet him outside the city. He would've certainly noticed the fire and the akuma shots ringing inside of it. No doubt the kid would be frantic by now. It would be best for him to go prevent- attempt to persuade, yes that was better- the kid to stay away from the factory. Having thoroughly rationalized that he wasn't abandoning history for his own interests, Sanjiv ran towards the outskirts of Naples.

oOo

When he'd reached the main hall where the riot, or the strike as he soon learned, had started Signor Bonaducci wasn't pleased to find his two guards being beaten to a pulp by a mass of workers. It took himself and five other large Camorra members to break the two guards away from the fight. After scolding them, he moved on to trying to suppress the strike by first locking the door. He wasn't letting one damn man- Cosa Nostra, Camorra, or even just a plain civilian- leave their shift. The two Noahs would be back soon, so he had a limited amount of time to get this under control.

He passed the hallway again and gave an angry yell, for Guiseppe and Pietro were now knocked out on the floor. A fat lot of good they were as guards. The boss would definitely be hearing about this. Before he could continue on, though, he stepped on something hard. Bending down to the floor, he saw a wooden rosary clamped between his foot and the hard ground. Signor Bonaducci scowled. Picking it up he said to himself, "What the hell is this? I've told that damn brat Bianchi before that these stupid things are dangerous. Well, I'll just have to prove it to him this time.

He pocketed the rosary and stormed off, hollering orders to the other foremen and guards along the way. High above his head in the rafters, a shadowy figure watched him leave. After a couple minutes the figure climbed higher up into the rafters until they jumped onto one of the landings of the upper floor, where they then disappeared into the shadows…

**Terribly sorry for the long wait between updates. School has been very time-consuming this semester, and I have finals coming up next week. Luckily I'll have a month after that to do nothing but write! :) Please review!**


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